


Naked Truth

by painintheassbutt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Eventual Romance, M/M, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, more tags will be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-30 03:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10152011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painintheassbutt/pseuds/painintheassbutt
Summary: Dean Winchester has done plenty of weird things for money. But when he takes an short term job at a local recreation center, he had no clue that he would end up stark naked with another man in a room full of strangers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! So, I originally started this as part of the Destiel Smut Brigade's Bingo challenge, but life got hectic and I never finished it and felt like a failure (Sorry DSB!). Well, as I was winding down on writing my longfic "The Other Road", I found this and decided to continue writing. I've posted just the beginning. Please let me know if you think it is something you'd like to read more of. :-) 
> 
> This fic has not been completely beta'd. Please be gentle with it. 
> 
> Cheers!  
> Pita

Dean Winchester has done plenty of weird things for money. Not that he’s hard up for it. If he were to call home and ask for a cash transfer into his account to carry him through the summer until the fall semester began, he’s sure his parents would oblige. But Dean had been fine until now taking odd jobs during the summer to supplement the money he had from grants, a few small scholarships, and the money that his parents had been saving for his education since he was born. While he never wanted for a thing growing up, he knew his parents weren’t rich, so any money he could save them spending on him would go directly to into his little brother Sammy’s college fund. Sammy had big aspirations to be a lawyer. Dean wasn’t sure yet what he wanted to do, but he loved playing sports and was now nearly three years into his bachelor’s degree in physical education. Being a gym teacher wouldn’t be so bad; that whistle nearly makes you a god.

So Dean took odd jobs during the summer - delivering pizzas and flowers; mowing lawns and cleaning pools; and sometimes dressed as a wiener, handing out lunch coupons in front of Hot Diggity Dog. Recently, Dean has scored a pretty sweet cash gig at a local recreation center, standing as a live model for a senior citizen’s amateur art class. Not only was it a quick one hundred bucks a class, he was hired for four Sundays in a row. It was a pretty low effort way to make a good chunk of change, leaving the important days of the weekend for him to spend it. It would at least help fund his last couple weeks of leisure before he trekked the three and some odd hours back to Lawrence to spend time with his family before classes started back up. Another bonus to the job was that it was only a stone’s throw from Dean’s apartment near the Missouri State University campus, so he’d save on gas as he was earning some extra cash.

Dean pulled his Impala into a parking space outside the Greene County Arts and Recreation Center and stepped out into the warm summer breeze. It was only a quarter past ten, but the air was already dense from the warmth of the sun. As he crossed the lot, he stripped the flannel from his arms, tying the overshirt around his waist. The air conditioning in the rec center immediately chilled his skin, and Dean rubbed his hands over his exposed arms as he crossed to the reception area, cursing the sudden change in temperature. An older woman sat behind the desk, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose as she read the paperwork in front of her. She looked up as he approached.

“Dean!” she beamed, rising from her chair and crossing around the desk to him. Dean accepted her outstretched hand.

“Ms Baker,” he replied, grinning. “Good to see your pretty face again.” The greeting caused the woman to giggle, and she slapped playfully at Dean’s arm.

“Oh, you,” she said, shaking her head before patting her upswept gray hair. “You are such a cheeky thing. Call me Mildred.”

Mildred linked her arm through Dean’s and lead him toward the studio at the back of the center.

“I’m glad you’re early,” she told him as they walked. “I want you to get a feel for the space, get to see the art that we are studying this month, and meet our other guest model.”

“The other model?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow in interest. “Wasn’t I enough for you?”

Mildred laughed lightly, tightening her grip on his arm.

“We have a big class, dear,” she explained. “And we like to give the students a variety of subjects to learn from.”

Dean continued to smile. He wasn’t opposed to meeting someone else that Mildred thought was worthy of being an art model. The older woman was pretty good looking herself, even though she was three times Dean’s age, so he trusted her taste in beauty. Besides, she did pick him, after all.

Mildred opened the sliding door to the art studio and motioned Dean in before her. The large room had a high ceiling and a dozen or so easels situated around a small raised stage in the middle of the wooden floor. While each easel held a blank canvas, the walls were lined with student work: pictures of hands and ears and eyes. Some were rather good, but Dean didn’t have much time to examine the work as Mildred took his hand again and led him to the back of the room.

“I think you two will get on just fine,” Mildred told Dean. He smiled and nodded, but the smile soon faded, replaced by the sexy smirk that unconsciously arose when presented with a sight that had his mind and his body in blissful agreement.

Past the rows of easels, a young man was sitting on a metal folding chair, his long legs stretched out before him and his ankles crossed. He was reading from a thin paperback novel that he had folded back on itself to keep his place. His brow was lined and he had a frown on his face, the quick shift of his eyes visible beneath his lids as he read. He didn’t look up until Mildred spoke to him.

“Castiel, dear,” she said, drawing the attention of a young man. “I want you to meet someone.”

Castiel looked from Mildred to Dean, his eyes widening before narrowing slightly as he closed his book and got to his feet. Dean felt his breath hitch slightly in his chest when those unearthly blue eyes met his. Dean had met a lot of cute people in his life, but he had never met anyone with eyes as intensely, beautifully blue as the man across from him. 

“Castiel, this is Dean,” Mildred announced, looking from one man to the other. “Dean, this is Castiel.”

“Hi,” Dean greeted, holding out a hand. Castiel glanced down at Dean’s outstretched hand for a fraction of a second before he took it with his own.

“Hello,” Castiel replied. His voice was deeper than Dean was expecting, but was not as startling as the blue of his eyes.

“Castiel is also a student at MSU,” Mildred told Dean, smiling up at Castiel with almost the same admiration. “He’s studying art.”

“Cool,” Dean commented. “What year are you in?”

Castiel’s brows pinched slightly and he rolled his novel in his hands.

“Third year,” he answered.

“Me too,” Dean told him. “I wonder how come we haven’t run across each other before?”

Before Castiel could answer, the sound of the door opening drew everyone’s attention. Mildred turned back to the two young men.

“It looks like the class is coming in,” she said, clasping her hands together and smiling in anticipation. “Castiel, could you please show him the storeroom? I’ll just get everyone set.”

Castiel nodded and Dean watched the older woman as she returned to the front of the room. He turned back to Castiel when she disappeared behind the forest of canvas.

“So,” Dean began, following Castiel to a small room off the back of the studio. “Art major, huh?” his grin returned. “You come here often?”

“Um,” Castiel considered the question, waiting for Dean to pass him before he shut the door behind them. “It would depend on your definition of often, I suppose... Sometimes once or twice a month.” Dean gave a small snort of laughter, but Castiel let the subject drop. “Anyway,” he continued, placing his book in a small open cubby on the wall and began toeing off his shoes. “You can put your things in any of the open shelves. No one comes in here during the class, but we can lock the door if you are concerned about your belongings.”

Dean’s smile faded as he watched Castiel pull the shirt from over his head.

“Whoa, wait,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “What? What belongings do I need to put away?”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair to settle the strands pulled astray by the removal of his shirt. The action made it worse, but no less beautifully disheveled.

“Your clothes,” he replied. “And your phone... keys...”

Dean stared at the other man a moment, dumbstruck. Castiel stared back at him.

“But,” Dean stammered, “This... this is an art class.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed again, his brow furrowed as he listened. “And the class is... old people...” Dean could feel the heat of a blush rising up his neck as Castiel stared at him.

“I suppose the elderly are no less fond of the physique of youth as the young are,” Castiel replied evenly, folding his shirt neatly and placing it in the cube on top of his book. “And since they are currently studying the Renaissance masters, who unfortunately had a penchant for having their subjects be nude, they need models who are... also nude.”

Dean made a scoffing sound, averting his eyes as Castiel pushed his blue jeans and underwear down his legs in one motion. How could this dude just strip to the skin in front of strangers? Dean was pretty confident in his body, but this was just... worse than being a giant wiener on the sidewalk, pressing two-for-one hotdog coupons into the hands of passers by. He closed his eyes a minute, gathering his courage before chancing a glance back to Castiel, who was folding his clothes and placing them in the cubby with his other belongings. Dean suddenly felt a lot less confident.

Castiel was built like a marble statue. Except where a statue appeared cold and pale, Castiel’s skin was gloriously, indecently tanned across every inch. His muscles weren’t bulging like someone who spent too much time in the gym, but lean and defined like someone who was no stranger to physical activity. So how had Dean never run into this guy in three years? There was something familiar and comfortable about the guy, but it may have just been his quiet confidence. Dean was pretty sure he would have remembered those blue eyes and, oh my god, those hip bones...

“Would you like a robe?”

Dean blinked at the question, and realized that Castiel was now wearing a thin cotton bathrobe. Dean cleared his throat.

“Um...” he began, glancing around the room as if he’d find some courage stashed somewhere with the tarps and canvases. Castiel continued to hold out the garment to him, but his expression softened with sympathy. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Castiel told him. “If you’re uncomfortable.”

“Please,” Dean replied with a shrug. “It’s no big deal.” He cleared his throat, untying the shirt at his waist and tossing it into the open shelf beside Castiel’s. His shirt was next, and he silently wished he hadn’t slacked off from the gym after spring break. As he brought his hands to the button on his jeans, he glanced to Castiel, who had respectfully turned his back. Dean sighed.

The air in the room seemed way too cold as Dean stripped from the rest of his clothes and grabbed the robe Castiel had placed in an empty cube.

“So,” Dean spoke, causing Castiel to turn back to him. “So we just go out there and what? Stand?”

Castiel did that cute squinting thing again, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Essentially,” he replied. “Their assignment is to learn the proportions of anatomy, so they will likely just focus on one particular part instead of trying to capture the entire form, especially since the class in only an hour long.”

“Great,” Dean grumbled, his eyes rolling back slightly at the thought of which part would be the focus of his nude modeling debut. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”

Castiel nodded, but appeared to be hesitating. Dean cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow in question. Castiel made a vague motion toward the floor.

“I’d remove the socks...”

Dean grimaced, reaching down and pulling the white gym socks from his feet, rubbing his skin where the banded cuffs made an imprint on his flesh.

“Lovely,” he grumbled, following the other man from the room.

Mildred beamed at them as they stepped back into the studio, holding out her arms in welcome.

“Our muses,” she announced, and the group gave a round of polite applause. Mildred took Dean’s arm and steered him toward the raised stage. “As I was telling the class, we are continuing our series on Renaissance artists. The Renaissance period celebrated the beauty of human form. In painting and sculpture, there was a very seductive realism to the works. The colors, the subjects, the techniques...” she sighed, turning to Dean and Castiel and smiling. “Of course, we are only doing sketchwork this month. So, if you gentleman could please take places in front of the class...”

Dean swallowed a little louder than he was proud of, his eyes scanning the room and taking in the group of predominantly elderly women. He gave a controlled sigh, turning and stepping onto the raised dais beside Castiel.

“Oh, dears,” Mildred spoke to them. “If one of you could face front and the other reverse, it would give the class several angles to choose from.”

Dean stopped his groan by biting his lip, but gave a tight smile and nodded. She beamed back at him.

“I don’t mind,” Castiel spoke softly, letting his robe slips from his arms and he tossed it to the floor. Dean stared at him a moment and Castiel shrugged. “I’ve done this before.”

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled, turning his back on the room and pulling his own robe from his body. He thought he saw Castiel look his way, but when he turned, the other man was facing the group. Dean sighed, trying to remind himself of the money he was making for this, but it was hard to think of cold hard cash when all he could focus on was his the goosebumps rising on his skin. He could swear he could feel every hair he owned standing on end, and he was hyper aware of how his current wardrobe had left impressions on his flesh. 

After ten minutes, the blush felt as though it had receded from Dean’s skin and he found his gaze wandering around the art hanging on the back wall. Mildred had thankfully pulled the blinds on the windows, but Dean had very little to focus on. His eyes fell on a display case beneath one of the windows and the glass reflected Castiel’s long, lean body. The other man, who Dean wasn’t sure was older or younger, had smooth skin and a well muscled back. Dean unconsciously licked his lips as his eyes traveled lower and he felt a small twitch below his own waist. Before he embarrassed himself beyond repair, he turned his eyes back to the student art lining the walls between the windows.

Castiel was silent as a stone, and Dean found himself desperate to fill the silence with something other than the soft scrape of graphite against paper. Dean watched the other man out of the corner of his eye, trying to decide how best to engage him in conversation. If he were to play his cards right, Dean may be leaving here with more than a hundred dollar bill and a plan to get a tan on his ass. 

“So,” Dean whispered, glancing to Castiel. “Castiel... Can I call you Cas?”

“Most people do,” Castiel replied in an equally quiet tone.

Dean gave a pleased nod.

“So Cas,” he began again. “Why haven’t I seen you around campus? I mean, have we really been attending school together for three years and we’ve never met?”

Castiel was quiet a moment before he answered.

“I usually stick to the art department,” he admitted.

Dean supposed that was a legitimate reply, but he had met almost the entire student body at some point. Even the people who weren’t social, Dean was social enough for them. He was determined to make the most out of the fleeting college life, even if it meant doing things he wasn’t normally inclined to do. He didn’t just attend the big ticket items like frat parties, activism marches, and guest lectures, but the little things too. He attended events and fundraisers for the obscure sports, the open mic poetry reads at the campus coffee shop, and the table top gaming nights with the geekier crowds. Dean wasn’t unknown to anyone. There was something familiar about Cas, but Dean couldn’t place where he would have met him before. He was no stranger to the artsy side of the school, but he would certainly remember a face like Castiel’s. 

“And you don’t go out?” Dean asked out of the corner of his mouth. “You’ve never attended a party? A ball game? A rally? Hell, I hate pep and even I’ve been to a pep-rally.”

Castiel was quiet again and Dean turned just slightly to look at him. Cas lips barely moved as he replied. 

“Are they still called ‘pep-rallies’?”

Dean bit off a huff of laughter, flashing the other man a smile. 

“Aren’t they?” he asked, his eyes stealing another glance in the shiny glass before turning his eyes back to the wall. What in the hell sort of work out could give a man an ass like that? “I dunno. But, I’d still think in three years we’d have at least ran into each other at the bookstore... or the library... hell, or the coffee shop.”

Castiel cleared his throat quietly and hesitated before answering.

“I... I don’t think we’re supposed to talk.” he said.

Dean sighed, wishing he still had a watch on to give him some indication how long he’d been standing on display. The backs of his thighs were starting to get sore and he really, really wanted a drink. Without the aid of conversation to speed the time, Dean had nothing better to do than to stare at the wall and ignore the near perfect backside reflected in the display case glass. After what seemed like a small eternity of listening to pencil scratch against paper, Mildred spoke to the group.

“Everyone has done a very good job today,” she said, walking amongst the easels and observing the work. “I’m seeing lots of progress from last month. Remember, next week we’re going to focus on shading as well as shape.”

Dean glanced around and noticed that the class was beginning to pack up. Castiel had stepped from the dais, sweeping his robe off the floor and pulled it on. Dean grabbed his own robe from the floor, and started to follow the other man toward the changing room.

“Oh, Dean,” Mildred spoke, stopping him in his tracks. He watched with dismay as the door the storage room closed, and he turned to the woman addressing him. Mildred smiled at him, linking her arm through his once again. “You did a very nice job.”

Dean gave a short laugh, shrugging self consciously but covering his slight embarrassment with a smile.

“I guess I’m a standing natural.”

Mildred laugh lightly.

“You should see some of the drawings before the class leaves,” she continued, leading him toward the nearest easel. Dean felt a small knot forming in his stomach, and he opened his mouth to decline, but the first sketch had him staring, mouth now open in surprise.

The sketch showed the gentle curve of his fingers, just brushing his thigh where his hand hung at his side. He followed along behind Mildred to the next easel and the picture that showed a close up of the angles of his shoulder blades on either side of the dip of his spine. He was amazed by the detail in the subtle rise of each vertebrae, and even more amazed that there didn’t seem to be one sketch of his butt.

Once he hit the middle of the room, the pictures were no longer of him, but of Castiel - the line of his slender throat; the raised swell of his bicep; the hard, lean bulge of his calf. He had to admit, as much as the pictures were well done, none of them seemed to do the man justice.

“This is good,” Dean told a petite, elderly woman who was packing away her pencils. He motioned to the drawing of the graceful line of Castiel’s neck. “You been doing this a while?”

The lines around the woman’s mouth softened as she smiled. 

“I’ve been in the program since it began,” she told Dean proudly. Dean grinned, giving a nod of his head.

“Well, I can tell,” he assured her. She urged Dean closer with a wave of her hand, and he leaned down for her to whisper to him.

“There’s a secret,” she began with a conspiratorial wink. “Castiel is very good at standing still. And he’s not bad to look at either.”

Dean laughed out loud at her amused giggle, but the sound died in his throat as he saw Cas, now completely dressed, slip out the door of the studio.

“Um, excuse me a second,” he said to the ladies, and he clutched his robe tightly as he jogged out into the hall. “Hey, Cas!” he called, noticing that Cas was moving at quite a determined pace. “Hey!”

Castiel paused, turning back to Dean who padded to a halt in front of him. Dean smiled.

“So, uh, good class, huh?” Dean commented, nodding his head as he spoke. “Not too bad for my first time. Thanks for, uh, taking one for the team in there. I didn’t know it was going to be ‘come as you are, or don’t come at all’, you know?”

Castiel nodded slowly, his eyes darting toward the exit and back. Dean licked his lips, crossing his arms over his chest as he plucked up his nerve.

“So, I don’t normally get naked with a guy without at least getting a full name... possibly a meal first,” he said, smiling. He held out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

Castiel seemed reluctant, but he took Dean’s hand.

“Shurley,” Cas replied, resignedly. “Castiel Shurley.” he pulled his hand away, but Dean could still feel the warmth his palm left against his skin. Castiel’s eyes darted back to the door. “It was nice to meet you, Dean. But, I have to go now...”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Dean said quickly, waving him on. “Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Castiel nodded, taking one tentative step away before turning and resuming his quick stride for the exit. Dean stared after him, calling out before the door to the rec center could close.

“See you next Sunday!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean returns for day 2 as an art model, but he isn't met by who he's expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone likes this. Please let me know what you think. :)

    Upon reflection, Dean realized that the whole situation was pretty lame. Yes, he inadvertently signed himself to model in the buff. But on the bright side, he did get introduced to one of the cutest guys on campus. Sadly, said cute guy didn’t seem to return the sentiments. It was unfortunate that the reflection only truly came after he shared the story with his roommate and his roommate’s girlfriend, both of whom were now laughing in amusement.

    “C’mon, man,” Dean sighed, twisting the top off his second beer and dropping onto the couch. “Quit busting my balls about it.”

    “I’m sorry,” his roommate, Benny, said with a sigh. “I’m just trying to imagine you standing naked in front of a group of grannies while they draw pictures of your ass-crack.”

    Benny’s girlfriend, Pamela, howled with laughter, causing Dean to throw a pillow at her head.

    “Don’t take this out of me,” she exclaimed, catching the pillow and tucking it comfortably behind her shoulders. Pam tossed back her shiny, dark hair, smirking at Dean. “And I think you’re avoiding the best part of the story. Not the part where you posed as the statue of David for a senior citizens group, but where you got blushed up like a middle schooler over the cute boy beside you.”

    Before Dean could respond, Benny cut in.

    “The cute boy who had the balls to show his, by the way.”

    Dean frowned, taking a deep breath and a long drink from his bottle.

   "Alright, so, he was not bad to look at,” he replied with a shrug, picking at a thinning spot on his jeans. ‘Understatement’ his brain added.

    “Didn’t sound like your type, though.” Benny commented, raising an eyebrow at Dean who averted his gaze. “Artsy, quiet, bookish... Don’t you usually go for the rugged, wrestler type when you’re not chasing skirts?”

    Dean grimaced, taking another long drink and shrugging off the comment. Benny had a point; while Dean had not really explored his attraction to men until he started college, he quickly found a preference and burned through a string of exciting, while short lived, hook-ups with members of the MSU athletics club. But, to be fair, three quarters of his female partners were pretty athletic too.

   "How ‘artsy, quiet, bookish’-cute are we talking, here?” Pamela asked, taking Benny’s beer bottle from his hands and taking a sip. “Like, “Tobey Maguire in Spiderman”-cute?”

    Dean grimaced, scoffing.

    “Please,” he answered with a roll of his eyes. “Tobey Maguire in Spiderman was geeky-smart, not artsy-bookish. And he was not cute at all.”

    He blushed while Benny and Pam laughed, and he settled further down into the couch. Benny reached over gave him a thump on the thigh.

    “Look brother,” he said, causing Dean to raise an eyebrow. “I know it’s been dry for you since Lisa-”

    “It has not!” Dean exclaimed, giving an aggravated groan and pushing a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen at least... hell, thirty people since Lisa.”

    Benny shook his head, unmoved by the number.

    “And how many of them lasted more than one night?” Dean’s frown answered the question. Benny shook his head. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong,” he continued with a smile. “I’m saying it’s nice that you’re getting giddy over a boy.”

    Dean continued to scowl, folding his arms over chest. Lisa had been his first steady girlfriend to break a long series of casual dates since he started college. They met at a party, and after a weekend of incredibly bendy, energetic sex, took the time to get to know one another. The relationship was good; Lisa was a fun, sweet girl and Dean’s parents liked her. They were well known on campus for being ‘the perfect couple’. They had just passed their year anniversary when things derailed. Lisa’s sister had planted the idea in her brain that men who occasionally dated men were just closet homosexuals, which caused a rough patch in their relationship. Dean didn’t like feeling judged or questioned, and Lisa’s suggestion that marriage sooner than later didn’t feel romantic to him - it felt like an ultimatum. But since that time, a year had passed. It’s not that Dean didn’t want an exclusive-type relationship, he actually liked the idea, but it was hard finding someone to trust.

    Benny reached over and gave Dean’s leg another sympathetic squeeze, the gesture indicating he knew what was now going through his mind. Dean glared at his friends as they stood, Benny taking Pamela’s hand.

    “We’re going to go in the bedroom and watch a movie,” Benny told him. “You wanna join?”

    “No,” Dean grumbled. “Maybe later.” he watched them walk towards Benny’s room, calling out before they disappeared. “You know, you owe my inability to have a long term relationship. If it wasn’t for me, you and Pam would have never met. I mean, I dated her first.”

    Pamela looked up at Benny, giving a shrug of her shoulders.

    “That’s true,” she agreed, reaching up and patting her boyfriend on the cheek. “And if you two hadn’t decided you were better off as friends, we wouldn’t have been clear to date.” Benny chuckled, turning to give Dean a smile.

    “She’s got us there, brother.”

    Dean’s scowl deepened and he raised a middle finger for each of them. Benny’s laugh grew louder and Pamela pushed him on ahead of her into the room. She smiled at Dean.

    “The invite still stands, sugar,” she told him.

    “Thanks,” Dean sighed, pulling a pillow into his arms and holding it against his chest. Pam’s smile softened into something a little sympathetic, and a little seductive. 

“If the movie gets boring, you’re welcome to join anyway.”

    Dean laughed, his scowl disappearing.

    “Thanks,” he replied.

    Dean watched her disappear into the bedroom and after a couple beats of silence, he could hear Benny’s deep laugh. Dean through an arm over his eyes and slid down onto the couch. He let out a long, decompressing sigh.

    He may have been the smallest bit in love with Lisa, but she wasn’t the reason that he was having a hard time dating. One bad break-up wasn’t enough to keep Dean Winchester off the dating scene. It was just hard to be himself around people when most had expectations of his personality. He was always supposed to be this ‘bad boy’; the fun loving rebel who always knew how to have a good time and was expected to generate the fun if it was lacking. Lisa, as nice as she was, was no different. Dean just wanted someone who liked him for who he was. Not that he was opposed to a good time, but sometimes a guy wanted romanced too - and to be with someone who could just accept who he was, as he was.

    Not that he thought Castiel may be looking to romance a guy like him. Especially since the guy didn’t only seem not interested, but couldn’t get away from Dean fast enough.

   Dean pulled the pillow over his head and groaned into the fabric. At least he had three more weeks to make a good impression.

~~~~~~~~~~

    The following Sunday, Dean showed up at the rec center twenty minutes early wearing nothing that was going to leave an imprint on his skin this time. He paced around the reception desk, glancing to the clock on the wall. He promised himself that he would be on his best behavior - he’d ask Castiel out properly, and accept the response with dignity. But you didn’t meet a guy as cute as Castiel every day, so he’d be stupid not to take the chance.

    “Dean!”

    Dean turned to where Mildred approached from the art studio. The woman had a smile on her face and a short brunette in tow. Dean smiled, taking the hand she held out.

    “Good morning, Ms. Baker,” he caught the reprimanding look she gave him and corrected before she could say anything. “Mildred. How are you today?”

    “I’m lovely, Dean, thank you.” she replied.. “We’re so happy to see you back.” she turned to the young woman behind her. “This is Megan. She’ll be your partner model this morning.”

    Dean’s smile faltered as he turned. Megan had a smirking, somewhat mocking grin on her face.

    “Just Meg is fine,” she said, taking Dean’s hand. “Pleasure.”

    “Uh, yeah. Dean.” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

    “Yeah,” she said, her eyes taking a slow, appraising route down his body and back up to his eyes. “Looking forward to working with you.”

    Dean nodded again, an uncomfortable, exposed feeling setting is his stomach and he wondered how much worse it would feel when he didn’t have a stitch of fabric on. Wrapping his arms around himself, he followed Mildred and Meg back into the art studio. Mildred held out her hands, indicating the easels in the room.

    “We’ve had such a positive response to this art series,” she told them. “Our students are doing wonderfully.” she pointed to a portrait near the wall. It showed the neck and torso of a young man, and Dean was almost certain it was Castiel. Mildred continued, proudly. “Edith Eddelmyer started our course at seventy-three years old. She’s one of our best students. Her work is comparable with someone who’s been drawing since high school. She’s quite inspired.”

    “I’ll bet,” Meg said with a smile, winking at Dean. Mildred clasped her hands together.

    “Yes, well... you can change just in there.” she said, indicating the storage room at the back of the studio.

    Dean watched Meg stroll away, and he hesitated in following.

   "Hey, Mildred,” he began. The older woman smiled sweetly up at him. “Is, um, Cas...Castiel not... not coming today?”

    “Oh no dear,” Mildred replied, linking her arm through Dean’s and patting his hand as she walked him back to the storage room. “He’s not feeling well today. Poor dear. He looked fine yesterday, but he says it’s one of those twenty-four hour GI things.”

    Mildred shook her head sadly, disengaging from Dean and walking back to the front of the room. Dean frowned. So much for Castiel being the one to break his streak of meaningless hookups. Not that that was what he was hoping to get out of this. That would have just been a bonus.

    “So,” Meg began in her slow, drawling voice when Dean entered the changing room. “You do this often?”

    Dean sighed, turning from where Meg was stripping from her blue jeans and pulling off his own shirt.

    “Nope,” he replied, tossing his clothing into an open cubby. “This is only my second time.” he grinned at her. “What about you? You an art major as well?”

    “Oh, hell no,” Meg laughed, tossing back her brown wavy hair. “This counts as part of my community service for a little ‘incident’ I was involved with.”

    Dean gave a snort of laughter, trying his best to ignore the small feeling of regret that it wasn’t Castiel who was sharing the small space with him. He stepped on the hem of his jeans to help pull them from his legs.

    “Really?” he asked. “What were you charged with?”

    Meg smiled mischievously, stepping forward and looking up at Dean.

    “Indecent exposure.”

    Dean chuckled, pulling his clothes from the floor and adding them to the cube. He shook his head, but Meg’s next comment had him nodding in agreement.

    “Gotta love the irony of it,” she told him with a smirk. She took a deep breath then, sighing as she gave Dean’s body another appraising stare. “So, big-boy,” she said, and Dean felt a shiver run up his spine. “What say you to possibly taking this ‘clothes optional’ party somewhere else after the grannies have had their eyeful?”

    Dean’s laugh came out in a nervous huff, and he took a small step back as she encroached on his space. Meg was pretty and all, with a lithe, toned frame, but there was something in her eyes that told Dean that a hook-up with her may not be a one-time thing - and not in a good way. He forced a grin on his face that he hoped read more ‘sexy’ than ‘extremely uncomfortable’.

    “And risk you receiving count number two? I just don’t know, Megan...”

    It was Meg who laughed this time: a throaty, amused chuckle. When Dean turned for the door, Meg moved with him, giving him a firm slap on the backside as she passed.

    “Cheeky,” she said, with a glance over her bare shoulder to where he stood, stunned. “I really like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

    Benny patted Dean sympathetically on the back as the younger man lay pathetically across the bed. After lamenting the story of his day, Dean waited for his friend to give his assessment.

    “Who touches someone’s butt without permission?” Benny asked with a frown, folding his hands across his stomach as Dean pushed himself to lay on his side. “That ain’t right.”

    “It happens a lot,” Dean sighed, rubbing a hand wearily over his face and back through his hair.

    “Don’t make it right,” Benny advised him. Dean shook his head.

    “And sadly, it wasn’t the most troubling moment of the day,” he said with a frown.

   It had been hard to stand for an hour with his junk on display for the world to see, especially without a sympathetic partner. Meg seemed to take delight in outwardly ogling him, and he spent most of the long stretch of time with a blush on his face. At least Cas was chivalrous, even if he wasn’t interested. And Dean couldn’t stop trying to figure out why he was so uninterested. If Cas was straight, he wouldn’t have felt the need to play sick to get out of spending the hour with him. Dean didn’t think he had come on that strong. He would hate to think he made the guy uncomfortable.

    “I think I’m just going to forgo the rest of the cash and just go home early,” Dean groaned, rolling onto his back. He stared at the ceiling a moment, ignoring his friend’s raised eyebrow.

    “You’re going to give up two hundred bucks because one good looking guy shot you down?” Benny asked, looking down at his friend with a frown. “Well that’s just sad. Maybe you should go home for a while. Play with your brother. Sleep in your old bed. Let your mama cook you dinner... hell, I may go with you.”

    Dean ran both hands through his hair, pressing his fingers to his scalp to calm his throbbing brain.

    “It’s not just being shot down...” Dean sighed. “He couldn’t just say ‘no thanks’... He pretended to have diarrhea and vomiting so he wouldn’t have to be in the same room with me.” he leaned up on his elbow, his face slightly flushed with embarrassment as he continued. “I’ve had people slap me in the middle of class. I’ve had people threaten to knock me out. I’ve had people write horrible, horrible things about me in permanent marker across my dorm room door - but I have _never_ had someone...” he shook his head. Benny reached over and ran a hand over Dean’s hair.

   "Don’t sweat it, man,” he said. “Don’t get worked up over some guy who doesn’t even have the balls to look you in the eye to tell you no. Why do you care, anyway?”

    Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He was quiet a minute as he considered the question. Why did he care? Was it just that Castiel was attractive? Was it just that Castiel had a beautiful body? Or nice eyes? Or was it that there was something about him that made Dean’s belly squirm.

    “He was really, really cute.” he said, finally. Benny shook his head, giving Dean’s shoulder a push. Dean sighed. “I dunno... I thought... he seemed nice and... when he offered to... to take the high road... I thought... I dunno...” he groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands. Benny laughed at his expense.

    “You’ve been alone too long,” he told Dean before pushing himself from the bed. “But I’m not going to let you mope about it. How about we get out tonight and get our game on?”

    Dean grimaced, rolling back onto his side and propping his head up with his hand.

   "And you think Pamela is not going to have a problem with that?” Dean asked. Benny shrugged, giving a shake of his head.

   “Pamela doesn’t mind me going out and tossing a few back with my friends,” he replied. “So I doubt she’ll have a problem with me hanging out with you.”

   Dean forced a smile.

    “I mean that you’d probably end up giving me a pity fuck.”

    Benny threw back his head and laughed out loud, holding his stomach in amusement. He leaned over Dean and gave him a firm, warm kiss to his forehead.

    “Please,” he spoke, standing back up. “Pam knows that if you and I end up in bed together she’s going to be right there with us.” Dean finally laughed, and Benny felt a little bit of relief in the gesture. He hated to see the guy so down. They may not have worked out romantically, but he still cared for Dean more than any other friend he had. “Tell you what, brother,” he continued. “I’ll let you wallow _one_ night. One night only.” Dean made a grunt of annoyance at Benny’s raised finger, but didn’t comment further. Benny pointed down at him. “I’m going to go get you pie, and we’ll watch Spaceballs and History of the World and -” he smiled, “ - pity fuck aside - I’ll let you sleep ‘till noon tomorrow.” Dean was chuckling as Benny grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed and threw it over him. He looked seriously down at Dean, but his eyes showed sympathy. “Then you’re going to stop acting like this guy was the love of your life and we’ll get back to business as usual, alright?”

    Dean’s smile faded. He pulled the pillows toward himself and settled comfortably under the blanket.

    “Make it cherry pie,” he commanded, petulantly.

    Benny shook his head, grabbing his keys and heading out of the apartment. On his way to the car, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through to find Pam’s number. Just before he could select her name, the phone screen changed and buzzed an incoming call.

    “How do you always know when I’m callin’, darlin’?” he asked with a grin, settling behind the wheel of his Jeep. Pamela’s deep chuckle preceded her response.

    “I think I’m psychic,” she said. Benny smirked, setting the phone to speaker and dropping it on the dash.

    “Well that’d be real dangerous,” he replied. “Wouldn’t it?”

    “Well that answer pretty much confirms it would be for you,” she teased. “So tell me, what are you and Da Vinci doing this afternoon?”

    “You know he’s not actually the one drawing anything, right?” Benny asked, pulling out of the parking lot and heading toward the nearest string of shops. “And I didn’t pay enough attention in class to know if Da Vinci ever stood naked for a painting. But, Dean and I are just going to hang out at home tonight. Order some pizza. Eat junk... Thought I’d buy him some pie.”

    “Well aren’t you sweet,” Pam commented. “I guess I’ll let you boys be then. Save me some pie.”

    “Yeah, right,” Benny scoffed before the two said their goodbyes.

    Benny stopped at a convenience store first, stocking up on beer, soda, snacks, and other assorted unhealthy foods. He had to go several blocks out of his way, but his final stop was a small boutique bakery that Dean had an affinity for, but for some reason had stopped visiting some time last year. Benny had his suspicions, but he didn’t press the issue. Dean had always been a good friend, since the first day they met, and if his friend needed to have a one day pity party, Benny was going to make it a blast.  
  
    The bakery was quiet when Benny entered. There were only two tables occupied, one was a young man huddled behind a macbook and the other was a couple of women who were speaking quietly over their coffee cups. Another young woman stood behind the counter, and she beamed at Benny as he approached.

    “Welcome to Divinity Cakes,” she said, clasping her hands and smiling up at him. “How can I help you?”

    Benny squinted up at the menu a moment, then glanced down to her name tag before answering.

    “Well Hannah,” he replied, resting his hands in the back pockets of his blue jeans. “I was hoping you could set me up with one of those deep dish cherry pies.”

    Hannah smiled more broadly, nodding her head.

    “Of course,” she said, pulling a box from beneath the counter and assembling it. “Is there anything else I can get you today? We are having a special on our gourmet cupcakes - two for three dollars; our chocolate eclairs are the same price.” Benny watched her delicately take a pie from the display case and place it into the box. “We also have some delicious apple turnovers that are about to come out of the oven. Two dollars each.”

    Benny grinned, giving a nod of his head.

    “Yeah, why don’t you give me a half dozen of those, too.”

    Hannah smiled brilliantly at him.

    “Coming right up,” she crossed to the door separating the kitchen from the front of the house and called out. “Castiel, can you please box up six of the apple turnovers? I have a customer waiting for them.”

    Benny’s grin slid from his face, and he narrowed his eyes at the kitchen door. Hannah returned to the counter, entering the order into the computer.

    “That will be twenty-five ten.” she told him.

    Benny took a couple bills from his wallet and handed them over, not moving his eyes from the kitchen door. Hannah was holding out his change when the door swung open and a young man with tousled brown hair and bright blue eyes came in from the back carrying a pastel blue box with a cellophane window displaying the flaky pastry inside. He handed the box to Hannah without a word.  
  
    “There you are sir,” Hannah said brightly, stacking the turnover box above the pie and sliding them across the counter. “Thank you very much for your-”

    “You,” Benny snapped, pointing to Castiel before he could disappear back into the kitchen. Castiel stopped, turning back to the man who addressed him. Benny was scowling. “What the hell’s your problem?”

    Castiel’s brow furrowed and he looked uncertainly from Benny to Hannah.

    “Excuse me?” he spoke politely. “Did you not want apple?”

    Benny gave an unamused huff of laughter and a small shake of his head before he responded.

    “I don’t know what your problem is, brother,” he growled. “But let me tell you what: you need to learn to nut up.” Hannah made a soft gasp and Castiel blushed slightly, but Benny didn’t stop speaking. “You aren’t interested in a guy, you should grow a pair and just tell him. But don’t make him feel like it’s something wrong with him when it’s something wrong with you, ya hear? Dean deserves better than that.”

    Benny took the box off the counter and turned to leave. He stopped, pushing the door open with his back and addressing Castiel one last time.

    “It’s me you need to be avoidin’ brother,” he warned. “That’s for damn sure.”

    Castiel stared after Benny, watching him put his baked good into the car before getting in himself, then tearing out of the lot. Castiel knew his face must be burning bright red, and he turned quickly and returned to the safety of the kitchen. Hannah followed behind, her face a mask of concern. She touched his arm.

    “What was that all about, Castiel?” she asked, gently. “Did you know that guy? Who is Dean?” Hannah watched him stare at the stainless steel counter a moment before she crossed to him and put a hand on his back. “Cas, I’m your sister... you can tell me. What’s going on?”

    Castiel sighed, covering his eyes with a hand. He felt the telltale signs of embarrassment and shame settling in his stomach. Resignedly, he dropped his hands to his sides and turned to face his sister.

    “I don’t think I’ll be able to work next Sunday.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out why Cas seems reluctant to be around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your positive comments. I am so very happy you are enjoying this little fic. I'm trying very hard to make it interesting, and I hope it continues to please. :)
> 
> If you all want to see the photoset I made for this fic, please visit my tumblr. I am painintheass-butt on tumbr. :)

  
    Dean was given his one day to wallow, and he and Benny had a good time watching movies, playing video games and consuming vast quantities of junk (pity fuck more than forgotten). Benny had convinced Dean to stick out the rest of the month in Springfield before heading home to Lawrence. There was not one man on the planet worth giving up two hundred bucks for (with the exception of Gunner Lawless), as Benny had told him, and Dean reluctantly agreed. It’s not like he’d ever have to see Castiel again.

    So the following Sunday, Dean rolled out of bed, showered, and threw on a pair of track pants and a T-shirt, before driving the short distance to the recreation center. He tried to psych himself up for the day, telling himself that it didn’t matter that he wasn’t going to get a date out of any of this. While he had originally thought that it would creep him out to be ogled by old ladies, they were actually very professional and polite, thanking him for his contribution to their artistic endeavors. Being ogled by Meg was the issue. Being rejected by Cas may have damaged his ego just a bit, but seeing how much pride the students had in their work was a little boost for his confidence.

    Mildred had the same beaming smile as always when she greeted him, taking his arm and leading him into the studio. It was quiet in the canvas filled room, and Mildred pointed him to the small supply closet where he would swap his clothes for a thin cotton robe. Dean watched Mildred return to the reception desk where several student were beginning to gather. He smiled to himself at their enthusiasm. He was beginning to feel a love/hate relationship with art.

    Dean turned the handle on the closet and pushed the door open. He was expecting it to be empty. But when the door swung wide, Dean was startled to find it already occupied.

    “Hello, Dean.”

    Dean stared a moment, surprised to see Castiel standing there. The other man was already dressed in a white cotton robe. He stared resolutely back at Dean, but his blue eyes were blinking rapidly as if it were taking all his determination not to look away. Dean pressed his lips together, giving a nod of his head in greeting to the other man. Castiel was quiet while Dean dropped his keys, wallet, and phone into the wooden cubby hole before he began to kick off his shoes. Castiel shifted uncomfortably.

    “I was hoping that we could-”

    Before he could finish the sentence, Dean spoke.

    “Glad to see you up and about,” he said, not turning to the other man as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Heard those GI things can be a real pain in the ass.”

    He heard Castiel give a soft exhale, and Dean snatched a robe from a hook on the wall before pulling it on and heading for the door.

    “Um, Dean,” Castiel said, following quickly behind him. “I was hoping that, before class started, we could-”

    Dean jumped on the raised platform where he and the other model usually stood before the class, his action once again keeping Castiel from completing his thought. Dean forced a smile onto his face, addressing the group of elderly students as they filed into the studio.

    “Good morning,” Dean said, earning a chorus of greetings in return. Castiel took his place at Dean’s side, staring at the other man before attempting to speak again.

    “Dean,” he spoke quietly. “I hope that you didn’t misunderstand my... my absence last week.”

    Dean raised a hand and waved off the thought.

    “It’s no big deal, Castiel,” he spoke, giving a small shake of his head. “I got the message. You don’t gotta worry about a thing.” he turned to Cas and gave him a smirking smile, trying to keep his eyes from flicking from the man’s blue eyes, to his disheveled, wavy hair, or to - dear god, no - his lips. He looked back to the group. “One more Sunday after this and I am off your turf. Back where I belong.”

    Since he was turned to the front of the room, Dean didn’t see the look of sadness that passed through Castiel’s eyes.

    “I want to thank you all for coming,” Mildred spoke, earning the attention of everyone in the room, Dean and Castiel included. Mildred beamed around at them all as she swept to the front of the room. “If you would like, you can continue any of the sketches from week one or week two, or if you’d like, you can start a new sketch today. I believe both Castiel and Dean will be with us again next week, so you should be able to work on today’s project until the end of the series.”

    There was a murmur of approval in the room, and a clatter of supplies being moved. Dean glanced to Castiel, watching the other man as he shamelessly stripped from his robe. He couldn’t understand how Castiel could have unwavering confidence in one aspect, but couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him he wasn’t interested. Of course, Castiel didn’t have any reason not to be confident in a body like his.

    Dean sighed, pulling his own robe off and tossing it to the floor. Last week, with Meg, he was sort of forced to accept his fate of being the only male model in the room, but now he was unsure of what the proper procedure would be. He clasped his hands in front of his body, trying not to look too obvious that he was covering his groin. Cas was standing beside him, hands on hips, waiting for direction as well.

    “Now,” Mildred spoke, clasping her hands together. “We’ve had two weeks of focus on the singular form. But as we learned in our art studies class, many of the great masters had several subject in each painting or sculpture. When not creating portraits, many artists had themes of religion or mythology or war or,” she sighed. “Love.” Dean could feel his eyes attempt to roll back into his head. Mildred turned to Dean and Castiel, smiling sweetly at them. “If we could ask our muses to find a comfortable pose together, we can focus on spatial-relationships between two forms and the contrast of two bodies in the same piece.”

    Dean stared at Mildred’s smiling face as his brain tried to comprehend what she was saying.

    “We should probably be sitting,” Castiel spoke beside him, turning from Dean and stepping off of the platform. Dean watched him pull two folding chairs from where they were leaned against the wall. Dean took one of the chairs without comment, unfolding it and sitting it on the stage facing away from Castiel. Mildred came to the edge of the platform.

    “So we have something dynamic with which to get inspiration,” she began. “Would you two consider posing with some overlap? It will give the students a more complex subject.”

    “Overlap?” Dean asked, tilting his head as if he couldn’t have possibly heard that correctly. “Um... wh-uh, h-howso?”

    “I think she means that we are not side by side,” Castiel explained. “But together in their frame of vision. It adds complexity, but it could be as simple as my arm linked with yours.”

    “Great,” Dean sighed. He slumped down in his chair, listening as Castiel positioned his chair beside him. There was a small moment of silence before Castiel spoke.

    “How would you like to,” he said hesitantly. “...to pose?”

    “I’m no expert,” Dean replied, a slight heat rising to his face. “So I’m not sure what kind of ‘overlap’ is going to work out.” he gave a look over his shoulder at Castiel, and looked quickly away. “And you’re the artist, right?”

    Dean heard the scratch of Cas’s chair against the wooden floor, and the clunk of the metal back against his. He could hear the other man settle into his seat, and a prickle of excitement traveled up his spine when he felt the weight of Castiel’s head and his soft, wavy hair settle on his shoulder. Dean closed his eyes, willing the blood flow to return to his extremities.

    “Are you comfortable?” Castiel asked quietly. “We’ll have to maintain this position for the hour.”

    Dean cleared his throat.

    “I’m fine.”

    “Um, boys,” Mildred broke in, giving them an apologetic smile. “A little _more_ dynamic, if you could...”

    Dean sighed, dropping his arm down at his side and he could feel Cas’s warm hand settle in his and their fingers laced easily together. Dean took a deep breath and let it steadily out. He needed to keep his mind neutral for the next hour or the class’s subject was about to get a lot more dynamic. He could focus on the cold, hard metal beneath his ass; that was certainly enough to keep his body from getting too comfortable with the feel of Cas’s hair and his skin and the warm scent of spice.

    They were quiet for the first ten minutes of class, the only sound was the soft scratching of pencil against paper. Dean was surprised when Castiel spoke.

    “I would like to explain myself,” Cas said quietly, his fingers flexing against Dean’s. “I feel that you may have misunderstood my absence last week.”

    “I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking,” Dean whispered back. Castiel didn’t respond right away.

    “I understand if you don’t want to hear what I have to say,” he said. “But I would really appreciate the chance to.”

    "Don’t sweat it,” Dean replied, his voice tight. “You don’t owe me any explanations. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. In another week, you’ll be rid of me.”

    Castiel’s voice was even quieter than before when he spoke again.

    “But I... I do know you.”

    Dean shifted to look back at Castiel before he remembered that he was supposed to be still. He made a sound of amused disbelief.

    “No offense, Cas,” he said. “But, I think I’d remember you.”

    Castiel’s hair tickled Dean’s neck as he shook his head slightly.

    “I don’t think you would.” he said gently. “Please... I’d really like it if we could talk. And even if your friend didn’t want to beat me up, I would really, really like to explain.”

    Dean sighed, closing his eyes. That had to be Benny.

    “Fine,” Dean said, nodding his head slightly. “Fine. We’ll talk about this after class.”

    There was just a short beat of silence before Castiel replied.

    “Thank you.”

    Dean’s nervous anticipation caused the hour to stretch out before him, yet come rushing to an end as he considered what Castiel could possibly have to tell him. He wracked his brain, thinking of any moment, any party, any event, where he may have already met Cas. He was absolutely sure he would remember a face like Castiel’s. So unless it was some drunken, one-time hook-up, which would explain Castiel’s behavior pretty well, Dean wasn’t sure where this was going.

    By the time class ended, Dean’s butt was sore from sitting on metal, and he rose gingerly to his feet. Castiel retrieved their robes from the floor, and they returned to the storage closet to dress in silence. When Dean pulled his shoes back on, he took a deep breath and turned to the man at his side. Castiel had a soft, repentant look on his face and they stared at each other a moment before Castiel spoke.

    “May I... may I buy you coffee? Or... or lunch?”

    Dean wasn’t sure if the feeling in his stomach was hunger, anticipation, or dread, but he nodded.

    “Sure.”

    Both men put on happy faces to say goodbye to the group and they walked in silence to the rec center parking lot. Dean looked around at the cars.

    “Which one is yours?” he asked. Castiel pointed to a rack near the sidewalk that had one lone bicycle chained to the metal pole. Dean grimaced. “I guess we’re taking mine then. It’s the-”

   "I know,” Castiel spoke, stepping off of the sidewalk and heading toward the Impala. Dean stared after him, dumbfounded, but quickly jogged to catch up. He unlocked the passenger's side of the car, opening to door for Castiel. When Dean settled behind the steering wheel, he turned to Cas.

    “Where to?” he asked.

    “My sister owns a cafe and bakery called ‘Divinity Cakes’ if-”

    “Uh, no,” Dean cut him off, shaking his head. “Somewhere else, please.”

    Castiel was quiet a moment, looking at Dean with slightly narrowed eyes. Dean shifted uncomfortably.

    “You pick then,” Castiel replied.

    Dean sighed, turning on the car and pulling out of the lot. He drove just a short distance to a casual sandwich shop. They waited awkwardly side by side until the hostess asked if they were together, and Dean just as awkwardly told her they were. They were shown to a table for two by the windows, and he and Castiel settled on opposite sides of the table from each other. Dean was pretty sure he was hungry now, but wasn’t so sure if he could actually eat, but he ordered a Reuben sandwich while his companion ordered turkey and Swiss on wheat. They were only alone for a few moments before she returned with their drinks. When the waitress left, Dean leaned back in his seat and looked expectantly to Cas.

    “So,” he began, licking his lips and bouncing his leg nervously to the peppy pop song that was playing over the ceiling speakers. “We’ve met?”

    Castiel took a deep breath, his fingers twisting an empty straw wrapper.

    “I wouldn’t say we’ve ever been properly introduced before the art class, no.” he began. Dean raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. Castiel sighed, appearing to deflate slightly. “The first time I ever saw you, I was attending a campus event where I was selling baked goods to support the art department... You were running a kissing booth with other members of the wrestling team.” Dean couldn’t help but grin at Cas’s words. Those kissing booths always made good money. Castiel continued, a soft blush coloring his face from chin to hairline. “I watched you for most of your shift. I was... I was surprised to see you so... indiscriminately kissing your customers...”

    Dean shrugged, shifting in his seat.

    “You got a problem with bisexuals?” he asked, trying not to sound defensive. Castiel raised his bright blue eyes to Dean’s.

    "I’m utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.” he stated, seriously.

    Dean felt a small, pleasant thrill flutter in his stomach, but Castiel lowered his eyes once again, focusing on his precision shredding of the wrapper.

    “I... I _wanted_ to meet you,” Castiel continued, and Dean was transfixed by Cas’s large hands so delicately taking the paper apart. “I’m not an extrovert, and I consider myself rather... rather shy on top of that. But I...” he shrugged, shaking his head as if still ashamed of the thought. “I never did. I wanted to, but... I was afraid.”

    “Cas,” Dean spoke, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on the table top. “So you thought I looked interesting and wanted to say hi?” He laughed, a smile finally lighting his face. “That’s not an embarrassing story. It’s a compliment, man. Why didn’t you just say something that first day we met?” he gave a small chuckle. “I mean the second time.”

    Castiel exhaled heavily, but he didn’t look at Dean.

    “That wasn’t the second time either.” he said. Dean’s smiled faded. Castiel closed his eyes a moment. When he opened them, he swept the tiny pieces of straw wrapper from the table and into his hand, depositing them on a neat stack on the side of the table. “I’m sure you may have heard this many times in your life,” he began again, squinting at Dean. “But your face has a pleasant symmetry to it.”

    Dean gave a snort of laughter.

    “Yeah, if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that,” he said. Castiel nodded, missing the sarcasm in his response.

    “And not only the symmetry,” he continued. “The contrast of freckles against your skin, the angles of your cheeks and jaw, the complexity of the color in your hair. I...” he took a deep breath, as if telling himself that he was already far enough out on the plank that he might as well jump. “As an artist, it is rare to find a subject that I would not want to add my own interpretation to, but would prefer to capture as close to the actual as I can. I was compelled to paint you, but I didn’t want to without your consent. It wouldn’t feel right.”

    Dean tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

    “Are you saying that you painted me and you feel guilty for not asking first?” he asked. “’Cause I hate to tell you Cas, but that is nothing to get worked up over either. I mean, that’s all kinds of flattering.”

    Castiel shook his head.

    “No, I didn’t paint you.”

    Dean grinned.

    “You’re not going to tell me something like you hung out in the trees outside my apartment and took photos of me or something?” he teased. Castiel finally gave a faint smile, but he shook his head.

    “No.”

   The waitress interrupted then, setting their plates on the table and leaving a stack of extra napkins between them. Dean took one of the paper napkins and rested it against his thigh, but he didn’t start to eat. He watched as the man across from him was now smoothing his own napkin out across his lap.

    “So what, Cas?” Dean asked, gaining the attention of those blue eyes. “Why so uncomfortable around me?”

    Castiel blushed slightly.

    “We run in very different circles, Dean,” he replied with a sigh. “I was finding it hard to receive inspiration for my art, so I spent a lot of time in thought on how to approach you. But as it turned out, you were the one to find me first.”

    Dean’s brow furrowed and he wracked his brain to bring forth any memory with the other man in it. He came up empty.

    “I really, really think I would remember you.” Dean insisted. Castiel looked down at his plate, and he seemed to regret what he was going to say.

    “You came into the bakery where I work part-time,” he explained, and Dean felt heat begin to rise up the back of his neck. A sense of dread pushed away any lingering feelings of pleasure. Castiel’s next words confirmed his fears. “With your girlfriend.”

    “Fuck,” Dean muttered, shifting again in his seat. He knew what day this was. “And we fought. Loudly.” he spoke, filling in so he could be spared hearing Cas’s rendition of the moment. “I remember that. But what I don’t remember is ever seeing you there.”

    “I work in the kitchen,” Castiel said quietly. Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

    “I can see how that would be a little uncomfortable,” he said. “But I still don’t see why that would weird you out. I wasn’t a raging jerk or anything. Yes, I had a loud, public, relationship-ending fight with a girl, but I never said or did anything that I would consider myself ashamed of.”

    Castiel chewed his lip a moment.

    “Do you remember what you did after that?”

    Dean frowned.

    “Not much. Except go out and get drunk and pass out way too early in the evening.” he gave a snort of laughter. “Benny said I must have had angels looking out for me that night.” Castiel’s shoulders slumped. Whether in relief or in regret, Dean couldn’t tell. “What?” Dean asked.

    “Maybe we should just eat?” Cas suggested, reaching for his glass. Dean sat forward, placing his hand over the other man’s. Castiel looked up at him.

    “No,” Dean said, firmly. His voice softened as he added. “Please?”

    Reluctantly, Castiel pulled his hand back and settled his fists on the table. He spoke without looking back at Dean.

    “I was closing up the bakery for my sister that night,” he began. “I suppose it was around ten o’clock when I was turning out the lights, but I heard a knocking on the front door. When I answered it... it was you.”

    Dean set back, his brow furrowing in confusion. He had drank quite a lot that night, but he didn’t remember going back to the bakery. Castiel continued.

    “You were _extremely_ intoxicated,” he explained, giving a sad shake of his head. “And you were very incoherent most of the time. To this day I am amazed how you were able to make it to the bakery safely.”

    Dean’s mouth felt incredibly dry, but he swallowed and licked his lips before asking.

    “What did I do?”

    Castiel looked up at him, his expression soft and sympathetic.

    “You asked for pie.” he replied, shifting slightly in his seat. There was regret in his eyes as he admitted. “And... and you cried.” Dean groaned, closing his eyes. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I felt as though I were intruding on something personal, without your knowledge. Worse than painting you without permission.” Dean watched Cas speak with such tender care for his wellbeing, and it made a pleasant warmth bloom in his chest that edged out the cold of the bitter memory. Castiel sighed. “Since we were not acquainted, I didn’t know any of your friends, or if you lived on campus or off. I got you a slice of pie and I looked in your wallet for an address before calling a cab to send you home.”

    Dean rubbed his face with his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.

    “I don’t remember paying for a cab ride home that night.” he said, wearily.

    “I paid for it.” Castiel told him, softly. “I just wanted you to get home safely. I would have taken you myself, but I don’t think we would have gotten very far on my bike...”

    Dean laughed out loud in spite of the embarrassment he felt warming his face.

    “I should think not,” he agreed. Castiel was at least somewhat smiling now.

    “After that,” Castiel shrugged, poking at the ice bobbing in his drink with a straw. “I never knew how to approach you. I wasn’t sure if you would remember or not... if you would... be uncomfortable around me.” Dean’s brow furrowed as he listened to Cas speak, his rough voice had a soft undertone of sympathy to it.

    “Found someone else to paint, huh?” Dean asked with a grin, picking up his sandwich. Castiel shook his head.

    “I haven’t really been able to paint since...”

    Dean sat the sandwich back down on his plate, looking sadly at the man across from him. He wasn’t sure what to say. He was flattered, certainly, that Cas had been - for lack of a better word - pining over him; had been worried about him, but he was also sad. One thing he knew for sure, however, was that he was liking a whole lot more about Castiel than his handsome face and his sculpted body.

    “So, why were you the one uncomfortable when we met?” Dean asked, giving a small smirk. “The, what? Third time we met?”

    Castiel took a deep breath, his chest rising before he sighed.

    “I was afraid,” he admitted, avoiding Dean’s eyes in favor of drawing a trail through his ketchup with a extra crispy fry. “I was afraid you would remember me and it would be a negative association for you.” he dropped the fry, his shoulders slumping as he sighed again. “I was afraid I would say the wrong thing and upset you.” he lifted his blue eyes to Dean, an embarrassed grimace on his face. “I don’t socialize much and I’m afraid, well, my people skills are rusty. I apologize if I made it worse. I should have known I would make it worse.”

    Dean leaned forward again, giving a reassuring smile.

    “Ah, I got over it,” he assured the other man. Dean brought a hand to his neck, unconsciously soothing himself by stroking the tense muscle as he continued. “Yeah, it wasn’t one of my better moments,” he admitted. “We had... we’d be dating a while and... and we couldn’t agree on the future...”

    “I’m sorry,” Castiel said softly. Dean smiled, shaking his head.

    “Don’t be.”

    Castiel tilted his head, raising an eyebrow incredulously.   
  
    “It must have been serious for you to avoid the bakery...” he said, carefully.

    “Not the bakery,” Dean assured him. “Just the girl... and the embarrassing memory.”

    Castiel shook his head, his eyes once again dropping to his own hands instead of focusing on Dean’s face.

    “You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said assuredly. “You may have argued publicly, but it was clear you spoke from your heart. You’re... quite expressive...”

    Dean gave a huff of laughter, a slight blush rising to his face.

    “You still want to paint me?” he asked, hoping to direct the subject away from his abysmal love life and his cringe-worthy public break up. “Because I happen to now have some experience.”

    Castiel looked up at him, and Dean was pleased by the broad smile that lit his handsome face.

    “I’d like that.”

    Dean found he was grinning too now, and he returned to his sandwich with new found hunger. Cas finally ceased picking at his food, a barely concealed smile on his face as he finished his own meal. When the check came, Dean insisted on paying. He wouldn’t let Castiel argue with him, and he ushered the other man out of the building and back to the Impala.

    Dean followed Cas’s directions, and drove them to his loft apartment near the bakery. It was only a studio; the small kitchen having stools against the island where Dean assumed Cas had his meals since the apartment appeared to lack a dining table. A queen size bed dominated the far corner, the low profile frame making it just several inches off the floor. A television sat on the bookshelf at the end of the mattress and a dvd player shared space amongst the books, indicating to Dean that Cas did most of his relaxing in the bed. He tried not to think too much about Cas’s bedtime activities. While the space was neat, it was filled with many half finished drawings and landscapes, and many of the surfaces were littered with brushes and small sketches or photographs. Castiel slipped his shoes off by the door, so Dean did the same.

    “Would you like something to drink first?” Castiel asked, pressing his hands nervously into his pockets. Dean found himself mirroring the posture, rocking forward onto the balls of his feet as he watched Castiel turn to the fridge.

    “Sure,” he answered with a shrug. “Whattaya got?”

    Castiel opened the fridge, leaning down to peer inside.

    “Water... apple juice...gatorade,” he looked over the open door to Dean, his face expectant.

    “Apple juice?” Dean laughed, a smile spreading across his face. “What are you, six?”

    Castiel smiled in return, and he blushed.

    “It helps when I need to settle my stomach,” he admitted. “And, whether you believe it or not, I did have a stomach ache last week...”

    Dean shook his head, and found he was now blushing too.

    “You didn’t have to make yourself sick over me possibly remembering you,” Dean told him. “I mean - water’s fine - I wouldn’t have held it against you or anything.”

    Castiel took a water bottle from the fridge, wiping the condensation on a towel before handing it to Dean.

    “It’s not that you would hold it against me,” he explained, his hands once again seeking refuge in his pockets. “I didn’t want to...” he shrugged. “I didn’t want to bring up bad memories.”

    Dean had to fight the smile that wanted to spread across his face.

    “Thanks, Cas,” he spoke, sincerely. Castiel was smiling now too, and the two stared at each other a moment.

    “Uh, so anyway,” Dean spoke, breaking their eye contact and looking around the room. “So, how do we do this?” he grinned again, giving a wink. “Do I take off my clothes?”

    Castiel shook his head, but he had a please smile on his face. He gestured to the sofa.

    “You can have a seat,” he said, turning to a work table at the far end of the room beneath a wall of tall windows. “I just want to sketch your face.”

    Dean took a drink from his water, dropping onto the end of the sofa as he watched Castiel carefully select a few pencils and pluck a sketchbook from a stack of them on the table. When he returned, he settled across from Dean, folding his leg beneath himself to get a comfortable position. Dean sat patiently while Castiel sketched, and he couldn’t help feeling the distinct swell of happiness as he watched Cas work. Castiel was smiling, his pencil moving lightly and with inspiration across the heavy paper.

    “Be sure to focus on my good side,” Dean said with a grin, his smile widening when he saw the corners of Castiel’s lips begin to turn up further.

    “You don’t have a bad side,” Cas replied, gently. “But you don’t have to sit so still for me. I’m more experienced than our rec center class, and the movement won’t harm my work.”

    “An expert, huh?” Dean teased, but he did turn his head slightly to take in more of what made Castiel’s small apartment his home.

    When half an hour passed, Dean peered over the paper to see a beautiful sketch, particularly detailed around his eyes. Castiel seemed revived by the effort and he looked upon the drawing with pride. Cas leaned forward to set the sketchpad on the coffee table before rising and walking to the kitchen. Dean picked up the portrait, admiring the work. Castiel certainly had a thing for his freckles.

    “Would you sit for me again?” Castiel asked, taking a sip of water from the bottle he carried.

    “Sure,” Dean agreed with a smile, pulling his knee up on the sofa cushion as Castiel settled back on the other end. Dean took a drink from his own bottle, his eyes traveling over to watch Castiel. He had seen him out of his clothes more than in, but he liked the comfortable, casual way the other man dressed; jeans worn and faded, long sleeved T-shirt soft and just a size too big. He looked at ease on the other side of the couch with Dean, and Dean like that.

    “Thank you,” Dean said after a moment a quiet. Castiel turned to him, tilting his head in question.

    “For?”

    “For the pie,” Dean said with a smile. “And the cab ride.”

    Castiel blushed, a shy smile on his face as he looked away.

    “It was my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~

    Dean’s good spirits began to lag in the middle of the week, and he found himself laying around the house waiting for Sunday to arrive.

    “You know,” Benny told him, looking disinterestedly at his friend over the top of his chemistry course book. “They’ve invented these new contraptions called phones, and you could possibly call your little crush.”

    “Shut up,” Dean grumbled, rolling off of the sofa and trudging into his room, leaving Benny chuckling in the living room. He didn’t bother turning on the light, as enough of the afternoon sunshine lit his room, and he collapsed on the bed. He lay on his stomach a moment, simply breathing against his pillow, but he rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He and Cas had exchanged numbers the last time they were together, and the other man had told him to call if he needed anything. Did extreme boredom count as needing something? Needing distraction? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it a moment, biting his lip as he thought about how eager and lame he would look to not be able to wait a whole week to see Cas again. With a sigh, he thumbed the screen open and pulled up his contact list.

  **IM BORED**

    After sending the text, he groaned and dropped his phone, knowing it would probably be another eternity before Cas even checked his messages. He was surprised that it buzzed almost immediately.

_And your caps lock is on._

    Dean gave a huff of laughter, grinning down at the screen and the little grey message balloon. He typed in a response.

**You at work or class?**

_Work. Making pie._

**You are my hero**

_ >_<_

    Dean laughed, staring up at the phone and biting his lip. His thumb hovered over the keypad a moment.

 **Sorry to bother you while you’re working**  
  
    There was a few very long minutes before a response was received.

_It’s okay. I was hoping to hear from you._   
_And you were bored, so... understandable._

    Dean continued to smile, his thumb absently stroking the text box as he thought about what to say. Before he could respond, another message came in. It was a picture of pie. Dean’s smile widened.

**Didn’t think we were to the point in this where you send me arousing photos.**   
**But I’m glad.**   
**Bring that over after work.**

    There was another long pause before Castiel's next message was received. 

_Are you using me for pie, Dean?_

**Yes**   
**No**   
**I’ll pay for it**

_;-)_

    Dean laughed out loud, shaking his head.

**Your a dork**   
***You’re**

_I like emoticons. :-)_

    Dean sighed, his hands feeling slightly damp as he punched in another text.

**Come over anyway No pie needed**

    Dean had small eternity to wait for a reply, and he had just enough time to worry if that seemed too forward.

_Will that be okay with your roommate?_

    Dean shook his head as he typed in his next message.

**Benny just wants me to be happy**

    Castiel’s response caused his smile to return and a swell of pleasure to rise in his belly.  
  
_Same._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the rec center job comes to an end, what will that mean for Dean and Cas's friendship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My word processor died, so I'm sorry for the inconsistency in formatting. I hope you like this little story. :)

 

    Dinner on Wednesday was followed by Thursday lunch, which was then followed by Friday night movie and dinner downtown. For two seemingly different people, Dean and Castiel had engaging conversations and a similar sense of humor, and Dean found he laughed with his whole body when he was around Cas. Their new, closer friendship made it more difficult to be sitting naked and holding hands with Castiel’s soft, apple scented hair on his shoulder, but Dean toughed it out one last time. Unless it was his imagination, Castiel’s hand lingered in his a little longer than last time when they stood to leave the dais, and his eyes were a little softer when he looked upon Dean. Dean was pleased by the outcome, but he found it to be bittersweet when Mildred gave him his last hundred dollar bill.

    “So,” Castiel began, unlocking his bike from the rack. “What will you do with the rest of your summer, now that you are not inspiring the arts?”

    Dean shrugged, grinning at the pavement and pushing his hands down into his pockets.

    “I told my family I’d come home for a while,” he replied, falling into step beside Cas as he walked his bike out into the parking lot. “Spend a month or so back in Kansas.”

    Castiel nodded, squinting against the sun to look into Dean’s face. His nose scrunched as he squinted, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Castiel spoke hesitantly.

    “Will you... keep in touch?”

    “Absolutely.” Dean assured him, reaching over to give Cas an affectionate thump on the arm. “We’ll talk as much as you want. You can send me racy pictures of baked goods in the middle of the night.”

    Dean grinned at Castiel’s blush, and they walked in silence a moment before Castiel spoke again.

    “Will you have time to sit for me one more time before you have to go?” he asked tentatively, stopping beside the Impala. Dean nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels.

    “You bet. You free Wednesday?”

    Castiel gave a single nod.

    “Yes,” he replied. “Can you come over early? Like, four?”

    Dean’s eyebrows raised, taken aback from the suggestion.

    “Sure. Why so early? I’m not complaining, just so you know... just curious.”

    Dean leaned against the Impala, and Castiel put down the kickstand on his bike. His hand twisted nervously against one of the handles as he spoke.

    “I bought some new paint,” Castiel explained. “So I was hoping to start a portrait... I wanted enough time to do the rough sketch before I painted....”

    Dean smiled, tilting his head to look at the man at his side.

    “I’ll bring dinner.”

    The words brought a smile to Castiel’s face, and Dean felt a pleasant flutter in his gut.

    “Okay,” Castiel agreed, raising the kickstand on his bike. “Have a good night, Dean.”

    Dean nodded, watching Cas walk away. Before he could climb onto the bike, Dean called out to him.

    “Hey,” he said, causing Cas to look back. “Do we have to wait until Wednesday to get together?” Castiel smiled brightly, shaking his head. Dean grinned back. “See you tonight!”

~~~~~~~~~~

    “How many is this one?”

    Dean looked into the bathroom mirror where Benny was reflected behind him, leaning on the bathroom door frame and smirking. Dean raised an eyebrow.

    “How many what’s?” he asked. Benny grinned, giving a shrug as he continued to watch Dean finger comb his hair into a subtle faux hawk.

    “Dates with Mr. Right,” Benny clarified. Dean made an indignant scoffing sound.

    “Come on, man,” Dean sighed, giving Benny a shove on his way past. “Don’t give me a hard time about this. We’re just... just having a good time.”

    “I ain’t giving you a hard time, brother,” Benny laughed. “I’m thrilled for you. It would have been really inconvenient for me if I had to break the kids kneecaps.”

    Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring Benny’s comment and walking into the living room. He dropped onto the sofa, absently checking his phone to see if he had any texts. He ignore Benny’s soft laughter, turning to the window and seeing a steady stream of summer rainfall. Dean frowned.

**Where are you?**

    He watched the text send and waited for a response. The window rattled in its frame as the wind blew, and Dean began typing another message. Before he could hit send, a knock sounded on the door.

    Dean jumped from the sofa, but Benny stuck out his foot and tripped him before he could answer it. Dean scowled at his chuckling friend, then collected himself before opening the door.

    “Hey Cas,” he greeted with a smile. It turned into a grimace as he took in Cas’s slightly damp appearance. “You alright?”

    “Yes,” Castiel replied, handing Dean a blue paperboard box. “I shielded this in my jacket so it shouldn’t be too wet.” he said. “But I would probably take it out so it doesn’t affect the crust. May I leave my bike in your hallway?”

    “Sure,” Dean agreed, watching Cas walk the bike to the wall and secure the chain. Castiel stopped at the threshold of the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “You can just put those right here.” Dean told him, pointing to a spot just inside. “And let me get you a towel.”

    “Thank you,” Cas replied, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him. He gave an uneasy smile to Benny. “Hello again.”

    Benny stood from his chair, holding a hand out to Castiel.

    “Let me take your coat. I’ll put it in shower to dry.” he said.

    “It’s not that wet,” Castiel commented, but pulled the jacket off and handed it over. “It only just started to rain when I was a couple blocks away.”

    Benny took the jacket and carried it to the bathroom as Dean returned.

    “Here,” he said, handing a towel to Cas. “You should have called me and I would have come picked you up.”

    Castiel accepted the towel, using it to blot the water from his hair. Dean noticed that it was curling more than usual around his ears, and the effect was quite adorable. Castiel gave him a patient smile.

    “Rain wasn’t in the forecast,” he explained. “And it wasn’t raining when I set out.” Dean laughed, giving Cas a smirk.

    “This is Missouri,” he said, amused. “Since when has the weather made any freaking sense?” He took the towel back from Cas and rubbed it vigorously over the other man’s hair.

    “Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, taking the towel from Dean’s hands. “Was the pie damaged?”

    Dean smiled broadly, shaking his head.

    “The pie looked great,” he said happily. “Thank you. We can just forgo dinner and skip straight to pie.”

    “I wouldn’t say that, Dean,” Benny called over his shoulder from where he sat in the living room, having returned to his studies. His friend’s voice had way too much amusement in it for Dean’s liking. “He’s gonna think you don’t know the meaning of foreplay.”

    Both Dean and Cas immediate blushed, and Dean scowled at the back of Benny’s head. He turned sheepishly to Cas, hoping to quickly change the subject.

    “Can I get you anything? Something to drink?” he smiled. “Maybe a dry shirt?”

    Castiel looked down at his damp shirt, considering the offer.

    “If it’s not too much trouble.” he replied. Dean gave a jerk of his head, indicating that he should follow him into the next room. Cas let Dean lead him into the bedroom, and he looked around at the small space. Dean’s room was pretty standard for the tiny apartment, a double bed pushed into the corner and a desk that looked like it got very little use. As Dean rummaged in the closet, Castiel kneeled down in front of the bookshelf beside the bed. It was crammed full of books, in a variety of genres. Castiel plucked one of the well worn paperbacks from amongst the others.

    “You like to read, it seems,” he observed, flipping through the chapters, noting the dog-eared pages where Dean had marked his place. Dean turned from the closet, holding a heather grey, short-sleeved T-shirt.

    “Oh, uh… yeah,” he admitted, shrugging. “Helps me sleep.”

    Castiel got to his feet, looking suspiciously at Dean.

    “I have a feeling you are more intelligent than you present yourself as,” he observed. Dean gave a small smile, coming to stand in front of the other man.

    “I’m studying to be a P.E. teacher,” he said. “Not exactly the top of academia.”

    Castiel continued to scrutinize him, but offered nothing more. He took the shirt from Dean’s hands.

    “Thank you.” he said softly. Dean shook his head almost imperceptibly.

    “You’re welcome.”

    Castiel held the shirt in his hands, but he made no movement to put in on. He and Dean just stared at one another, blue eyes searching green. Dean licked his lips, his eyes flicking from Castiel’s eyes to his mouth and back. He wondered if he leaned in, if Cas would pull away.

    He didn’t get to test the theory.

    “Hey man,” Benny spoke, leaning in the door and startling the two out of their staring contest. Both turned to the interruption. “Pamela just texted and told me she has a leak in her roof. I’m not sure if that is literal or if it’s some sort of sexy euphemism, but either way I’m heading out.”

    “Uh, sounds good,” Dean told him. “Drive safely.”

    Benny gave a nod of his head.

    “Thanks. I hope this rain lets up, or you need to be a gentleman and drive your friend home.”

    “Will do,” Dean agreed.

    Benny and Castiel exchanged words of parting, and soon Dean and Cas were left alone in the apartment, the wind and rain now pounding on the windows. Dean placed his hands on his hips, giving Cas a wag of his eyebrows.

    “Let me get you something to drink,” he offered, reluctantly turning as Cas began to pull the wet shirt over his head. “You can toss that over the shower bar, if you want.” he called back as he walked to the living room. “It shouldn’t take long to dry.”

    Cas did as Dean suggested, laying his wet shirt over the shower curtain rail so it could dry. He then pulled on Dean’s soft and well worn T-shirt before joining him in the next room.

    Dean made them a meal of cheeseburgers and homemade baked sweet potato fries that Castiel enjoyed more than was decent. They spent the meal chatting about school, and Castiel questioned Dean about the various aspects of his chosen degree path.

    “I just kind of fell into it really,” Dean admitted, leaning back in his chair once his plate was clean and absently watching Cas as he continued to eat. “My dad’s a mechanic, and I kind of think he was hoping I’d want to go into the field as well. But, as much as I love cars and I’m pretty good at working on them, I didn’t want to do that for a living, ya know?”

    Castiel nodded, continuing to savor the juicy hamburger. Dean adverted his eyes as Cas retrieved a napkin to wipe a trail of grease from his chin. He cleared his throat and continued.

    “And my mom, she’s a nurse, but I didn’t want to go into medicine. I just wanted to play sports and thought this way I could at least coach sports as a career.” he shrugged. “Kids suck a bit, but… you gotta do something for a living, right?”

    “That’s what my mother tells me, yes,” Castiel agreed. Dean smiled.

    “She doesn’t think naked modeling pays the bills?” he asked. Castiel blushed and coughed, dropping his gaze.

    “She doesn’t know about that,” he admitted, wiping his mouth on a napkin. “She wanted me to go into law and join her practice like my oldest brother. Pretty much anything but the arts.”

    “What does she have against the arts?” Dean asked, intrigued. Castiel smiled wryly.

    “My father, I suppose,” he replied, wiping his mouth one final time and dropping the napkin beside his empty plate. “He’s a writer. Not ambitious enough for her, I guess. Too much depends on inspiration and not on structure. Or consistent income.”

    Dean rose from his chair, gathering the empty plates and taking them to rinse in the sink stacking them neatly in the basin to wash later. Castiel followed.

    “So, what kind of job will you do with an art degree?” Dean asked, taking the empty beer bottles Castiel handed him. Castiel sighed, leaning against the counter and watching as Dean cleaned up.

    “Ideally, support myself on my art. But realistically? I’ll probably teach.” the look on his face showed exactly how much he didn’t enjoy the prospect. “But I’d rather not.”

    Dean chuckled, grinning at the other man.

    “Well, if the art doesn’t work out, I’m pretty sure the nude modeling gig will.”

    Castiel shook his head, blushing lightly.

    “I don’t do that very often, you know.” he defended himself. “I consider it a public service for the art community.”

    Dean was smiling broadly at the statement.

    “You are not going to hear me complaining.” he replied. Castiel shook his head, continuing to blush as he turned and walked into the living room. Dean followed behind, passing Castiel who settled on the sofa and continuing on to look out the window at the rain. “Man, it’s raining like crazy out there…” he turned, crossing back to the sofa and dropping next to Cas. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while.”

    Castiel smiled softly, looking away from Dean.

    “You’re not going to hear me complaining…”

    Dean laughed, but gave a pleased smile as he settled comfortably on the couch. The two sat in silence, listening to the steady rainfall and the rumbling of thunder. Dean was watching Cas out of the corner of his eye, biting his lip as he tried to think of something else to say. He was saved the trouble when Cas turned to him.

    “May I ask you something?”

    Dean blinked, nodding mutely as he looked into Cas’s bright blue eyes. Cas took a deep breath, and hoped Dean couldn’t see the blush of color he felt rising to the tips of his ears.

    “The other night,” he began slowly, lowering his gaze from Dean’s face to focus on the blank TV. “When I sent you the picture of the pie…” Dean grinned broadly. Castiel took another breath and continued. “You said you ‘didn’t think we were to the point in this to send arousing photos’.”

    Dean laughed out loud, smiling broadly at his own humor.

    “You can send me pie shots any time you want,” he told the other man. Castiel smiled patiently and Dean’s mirth began to fade. He wondered for a moment if he had offended Cas in some way. “Unless… unless you don’t want to…”

    “It’s not that,” Cas replied, his blush spreading to lightly tinge his cheeks. Dean tilted his head to the side, wondering where the unshakable confidence was that Cas exhibited when he dropped his clothes in front of strangers without a second thought. Confident Cas is hot as hell, but this shy, blushing Cas was cute as fuck.

    “Then what?” Dean asked with a smile.

    Castiel was quiet a moment, and he squinted his eyes even though he was focused on nothing.

    “I like spending time with you,” he admitted. Dean’s smile widened, and that pleased feeling in his belly swelled up into his chest.

    “Right back at ya,” Dean assured him, gently shaking the other man’s shoulder. “So, don't be shy. What did you want to ask about the pie photos? Because I am still totally down for pie photos.”

    Castiel smiled, but Dean noticed the blush became a little darker.

    “You said you ‘didn’t think we were to the point in this’... _this_ …” he looked sideways at Dean, his blue eyes just visible beneath his dark lashes. “What exactly is ‘this’... just so we're clear?” Dean bit his lip, feeling a bit of heat rush to his skin. Castiel cleared his throat, turning away.

    Dean turned the question over in his mind, particularly replaying the comment “just so we're clear”. Wasn't he being fairly clear already? He was wild about Cas. It had been a really long time since he was around someone who he felt so comfortable with, who made him laugh, who could carry on such interesting conversations.

    Who was simultaneously sexy and adorable.

    To Dean, it was obvious what this was. Maybe it was to Cas too, and he didn't feel the same...

    The sound of the door opening startled them both, and they turned as Benny entered carrying a pillow under one arm and a duffel bag under the other.

    “Whattaya know,” he said with an amused tone in his voice. “There really was a leak in her roof.”

    Dean and Castiel rose from the sofa, watching as Benny dropped the bag and was pushed out of the way by Pam.

    “I told you it wasn’t a social call, darlin’,” she said before turning a smiling face to Castiel. She gave an approving nod of her head an a wink toward Dean. “So,” she said, strolling closer to the pair. “You must be Mister R-” before she could finish her statement, she noticed Dean’s wide, panicked eyes and the quick way he was shaking his head. Pamela recovered quickly. “Rec center model.” she finished. “Dean told us all about the inadvertent nude modeling.”

    “Oh,” Castiel replied, turning to look at Dean. Dean smiled. “Yes, Mildred fails to mention that sometimes.” he held out his hand to her. “Castiel Shurley.”

    “Pamela Barnes,” she replied. She kept his hand firmly in hers, narrowing her eyes as she looked at him. “You volunteered at the campus crisis center a while back, didn’t you?” she asked. Castiel nodded.

    “Yes. Last year.”

    “Good for you,” Pamela praised. “We always need more empathetic volunteers. Dean tells us you’re a real gentleman.”

    Castiel turned a questioning eye to Dean, who rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

    “When you helped me out with the whole, you know,” he made an odd motion with his hands that made Benny snort. Dean blushed. “The whole face front/face back thing... the first day.”

    Castiel gave a slow nod of understanding, and a small smile turned his lips.

    “It was the least I could do,” Cas explained. “It appeared he was one of the ones that Mildred forgot to inform of all the requirements.”

    Benny through an arm around Dean and gave him a hug.

    “Our boy is a little shy,” he teased. Dean grimaced, pushing the other man away.

    “Fuck you,” he hissed, but he didn’t look angry. His reaction only seemed to make the others laugh.

    “Well,” Pamela said, placing her hands on her hips and looking around the apartment. “I hope we didn’t interrupt your evening...”

    “Oh, no,” Dean insisted, shaking his head. Castiel turned to him. “We were just hanging out and chatting.” Castiel turned to Pamela and nodded.

    “I’m sorry to hear about your housing issue. Is it very bad?”

    “Not really,” she told him, shrugging. “Especially since I don’t own the place. I'm sure I can get the landlord to comp me on the rent for my trouble, and I can just crash here until things are cleaned up.”

    “Just make yourself at home,” Dean said with a smirk, dropping back onto the sofa. Pamela dropped down obnoxiously close beside him, giving him a pat on the thigh.

    “Well aren't you sweet,” she replied with a cool smile. “I accept.”

    Both Benny and Castiel laughed at the exchange, and Dean felt himself smile broadly at the sweet look of amusement on Cas's face. They locked eyes, and Castiel blushed as he continued to return Dean's gaze.

    The four sat in the living room together, and Pam asked Castiel a barrage of questions about his major, his job, his hobbies, and how often he modeled in the buff. Dean couldn't keep the smile off his face at Castiel's laughter, but he ran a hand over his mouth to relax the muscles in his cheeks when he noticed Benny grinning at him. But it was a good time, and the next hour passed with pleasant ease.

    At ten, Castiel reluctantly informed them that he should be returning home, and after gathering his coat, Dean walked with him to the street.

    “I can drive you home, if you want,” Dean offered, following alongside Cas as he wheeled his bike to the curb. “I can borrow Benny’s Jeep. It has a bike rack...”

    “It’s alright,” Castiel assured him with a smile. “I’m not that far away.” He hesitated a minute, as if trying to stall for time. “Thank you for dinner.”

    “Oh, no problem,” Dean insisted. “Thank you for pie.”

    "Cas's smile brightened.

    “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

    They stood in silence a moment, the cool evening breeze lingering around them. Dean watched , transfixed, by the way the gentle wind tousled Cas’s wavy hair. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it. He pushed his hands down into his pockets, clenching his fists against his legs.

    “Well,” Castiel spoke, breaking the spell the silence had cast over them. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

    “Yeah,” Dean agreed, nodding. “Wednesday.”

    They exchanged smiles in parting, and Dean watched Cas swing his long leg over the bike and start down the street. He watched Castiel until he was no longer visible at the end of the dark road. He sighed. The beauty of their evening began to fade as the unresolved conversation he and Cas were having come to the forefront of his mind. Cas wanted Dean to define his understanding of their current – for lack of a better word – relationship. Cas wanted it to be clear; wanted them both to be clear. Cas had explained why he had been avoiding Dean to begin with, but his explanation seemed to suggest it was because he cared for Dean’s well-being. So, that was pretty clear... wasn't it?

    Was it fear that had Dean second guessing where that conversation was about to go? He liked Cas. He seemed like a really great guy, who was also funny and interesting and fearless (in certain situations). Dean wanted to get to know him better. To spend more time learning what made Cas Cas. And the cute way Cas smiled made Dean want to hold his hand. He never even got a chance to figure out where Castiel was in regard to the interested-in-men department. Could it be that he really was just a super nice guy? Dean could believe it, but he sort of hoped that it wasn’t the end of the story.

    There was still one word that gave him hope that Castiel wasn’t just about to let him down gently earlier in the night. It was the word Cas had texted to him when Dean mentioned that Benny just wanted him to be happy.

_Same_

    That seemed like more than just a nice guy, right?

    Dean trudged back up to the apartment, wondering when would be too soon to text Cas. When he opened the door, Pamela immediately pulled him inside.

    “Well?” she asked, grinning broadly and shutting the door behind them. “How was your night?”

    “You mean before you assholes crashed it?” he asked as he dropped onto the sofa next to Benny. Pamela crowded in on his other side.

    “He seems like a good guy,” Benny observed, ruffling Dean’s hair. “A little shy a first, but he improved.”

    “Yeah,” Pamela agreed. “You two seemed like you got along. So why did it seem like you were a bit panicked there when I introduced myself?”

     “One,” Dean began grumpily, folding his arms over his chest. “You were going to embarrass me by calling him something suggestive.” Pamela chuckled, indicating he was accurate in his assumption. Dean sighed. “And two,” he continued grudgingly. “We were just about to discuss the... parameters of... of what we're... doing, I guess.”

    Benny and Pamela exchanged looks over the top of Dean's head. Benny wrapped an arm around Dean, giving him a quick squeeze.

    “Sorry about that man,” he said, sincerely. “But you know that conversation is gonna pick right back up the next time you two are giggling on your phones in the middle of the night.”

    “Shut your face,” Dean grunted, attempting to wiggle out of Benny's grip. Benny chuckled, tightening his embrace and holding Dean against his side.

    “Look,” he said, turning to smirk down at Dean. “I've been off the market for a while now, but I still know what it looks like when a guy is throwin' all the right signals.” Dean raised a eyebrow, feigning disinterest. Benny gave a nod of his head. “He likes ya, brother. No doubt.”

    “I agree,” Pamela told Dean.

    “And she's psychic,” Benny added. Dean rolled his eyes, finally extricating himself from Benny's grip and pushing himself to his feet.

   "Really?” he asked dryly. “So you probably know what I'm thinking right now.”

    Pamela shook her head, her dark, shiny curls bouncing with the motion.

    “Sorry, darlin',” she told him with a smile. “You'll have to get your little friend to help with that now.”

    “Fuck you both,” Dean snorted, ignoring their laughter and kicking their feet as he passed. “Don't eat my pie, you jackals.”

    Dean returned to his room, closing the door behind himself. He tossed his phone to the bed before falling beside it, pulling his pillow under his head and staring at the ceiling. He wasn't going to text Cas yet. That would seem a little desperate and weird. And Dean wasn't either. He could wait until tomorrow.

    His phone buzzed on the comforter, and Dean snapped it up so quickly it jumped from his hands and smacked him in the face. He rubbed his sore nose distractedly as he thumbed open the phone and checked the incoming message.

_Benny:_

_Just call him already!_

    “Fuck you, Lafitte!” Dean shouted, hearing laughter rise up from the other room. There was a short knock on his door, and Benny's voice was muffled from the other side.

    “Good night, brother.”

    Dean shook his head, laying back down and staring at the ceiling.

    “Good night, man.”he replied. He listened to the sound of Benny's bedroom door closing and the quiet hum of voices in the room next to his. Dean knew his friend meant well, but he was determined to play this cool, just on the off chance that he and Cas had different ideas about this friendship.

   Of course, he probably should make sure Castiel got home alright. The roads were wet, and it was rather dark outside, so it was really just good manners to make sure the guy was safe.

    Dean picked up his phone, exiting out of Benny's message thread and bringing up Castiel's. He quickly punched in a text before he could second guess himself.

**Hey text me when you get home safely. Don't make me come out there!**

    Once the message sent, he was pleased to see the little bubble appear, indicating a reply was forthcoming. The first response to appear was an emoticon, followed by a proper message.

_:-(_

_I'm home safely._

_I stole your shirt._

    Dean looked into his bathroom where Castiel's neat button-down was hanging from the shower curtain rail. Dean shook his head.

**No worries. I'm sure I'll see you again.**

**Wednesday, right? ;)**

    Dean was grinning again when the next message came in.

_I'm looking forward to it._

**Same. I had a good time tonight. Thanks for the pie.**

_It was my pleasure. I had a great time._

_Good night, Dean._

**Good night Cas**

    Dean stared at the screen a moment before he placed the phone beside his bed. That seemed like a pretty positive response to him. Cas was looking forward to their next meeting just as Dean was, so certainly Cas was having the same feelings as Dean. Cas smiled a lot around him, and laughed just as easily as Dean. True, neither tried to attempt anything of a more romantic nature, but that was because... Dean wasn't sure why that was. Cas knew where he stood on the sexuality spectrum, so if was interested in Dean, he could have made a move at any time. Was he waiting on Dean?

    Dean groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. He wasn't used to not knowing if someone was interested or not. Most people were pretty up front about it. But Cas was different; so Dean supposed that was why he felt different about him.

    Dean pushed himself out of bed and stripped from his clothes before settling back on the mattress, insulating himself in a cocoon of blankets. There was a funny twisting in his stomach, and he tried to put any negative thoughts out of his mind. Tomorrow he was going to ask Cas out with the clear intention of it being a date, and he was sure it was going to go just fine.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out something about Cas that he's not sure how to process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the change in formatting. I hate my word processor. I hope it doesn't bother anyone too much. Thank you so much to all of those reading and commenting. These boys are killing me. :)

**What are you doing today? I want to see you.**

_I'm in class right now._

_Later I work._

_Sorry._

_:-(_

    Dean stared at his cellphone, dumbstruck. How could he have forgotten that things such as classes and jobs existed? The last week had been a beautiful experience of Cas-on-demand. Granted, this was the time that he wasn't in class himself. But, he still didn't like it.

**So...how about tomorrow?**

    When the frowning face emoticon came back as the initial reply, Dean felt his spirits plummet.

_:-(_

_I have two finals tomorrow._

    Dean scowled at the tiny glass screen and the little speech bubbles of the conversation. He didn't want to seem desperate.

**No worries. See you Wednesday.**

    There was nearly a three minute delay before a response was received.

_Ok. See you Wed._

    Dean groaned, dropping the phone and crossing his arms over his chest. Patience wasn't one of Dean's virtues, not that he felt that the list was terribly long, but waiting to find out if Cas wanted more than just friendship was killing him just a bit.

    He'd take friendship, of course. Hell yes. In a second. Cas was a cool, fun guy who made Dean feel good to be around. He was smart and articulate, and the two of them could talk for hours over books and movies. He paid such close attention to everything Dean said, and remembered little things Dean would mention. He was also quirky and cute, with a killer smile.

    Okay, that wasn't just friendly feelings. But he knew from experience that he could remain friends with someone who he had previously been attraction to. Dean and Benny had an instant, intense attraction, and after they determined that their physical relationship couldn't sustain a romantic one, they remained the best of friends. So it wouldn't be the end of his friendship with Cas if the other man turned him down.

    It wasn't just physical attraction that Dean was feeling for Cas, however, if he was perfectly honest with himself. Cas made him smile a little bigger, made his heart beat a little quicker, made him feel a little bit happier. And he liked that feeling. He liked it a lot.

    Dean pushed himself from his bed, grabbing his keys and moving to lean inside Benny's door. Benny and Pam didn't even look up from where they sat on the floor, quizzing each other on medication interactions.

    “I'm heading out for a bit,” Dean told them.

    “Tell him I said hi,” Benny replied with a smile in his tone. Dean grimaced, turning from the room and leaving without even muttering a 'fuck you' in return.

    Dean didn't have time to worry about Benny's teasing. He wanted to make a kind gesture for Cas. Something that couldn't be mistaken for simply friendship. He wanted friendship, certainly, but he also wanted something more. Something like hand-holding and warm hugs from behind, Saturday mornings snuggled on the sofa watching cheesy TV while eating cereal out of the same ridiculously huge bowl, and possibly there would getting naked together in a less public environment.

    Dean groaned, stopping the Impala in the lot of his go-to grocery store. He couldn't remember the last time he was such a sap. But at the same time, it felt sort of good. Like... like he found something that had been missing for too long.

    The inside of the market was not too busy for a Monday afternoon. Dean passed the rows of cashiers and the small Starbucks to reach the floral counter. Dozens of metal bins on display held bunches of flowers in all types and colors, and just behind was a refrigerator section filled with more expensive bouquets.

    Dean looked at all the flowers, chewing on his lower lip as he considered which way to go. He poked through the bins, trying to determine which would best convey his intention. Roses had “intent” written all over them, but Dean was pretty sure they were less “I really like you” and more “let's get matching polo shirts for our engagement photo”. He wanted Cas to know he liked him without him worrying that Dean was one step away from building an alter in his closet.

    Carnations were cute, and certainly used to convey affection as often as they popped up in any holiday themed sale the school had where you could purchase a flower-gram to be delivered to your significant other during class. Unfortunately, Dean's current feelings for Cas were definitely more than 2 for $1.

    While there were many other flowers that had great scents and were types that would looks great in a vase on Cas's kitchen counter, Dean was having a hard time finding something that was sure to say that he was interested in dating and not just into sprucing up his living space. He wanted a flower that reminded him of how he felt around Cas, something like roses but... happier.

    In a metal bucket at the end of the display was a colorful burst of orangey-yellow that caught Dean's eye. The bright sunflowers were bunched together, their feathery brown centers the size of tennis balls. Dean brushed his fingertips over the soft, vibrant petals. They certainly looked happy and warm, and Dean couldn't think of anything better to describe Cas. He plucked two of the prettiest in the bunch and paid for them, spending an extra buck fifty to get them wrapped in a blue satin ribbon. He had a grin on his face as he walked back to the Impala. First task down. Now, he just needed to find out where Cas currently was.

    Since he wanted his gift to be a surprise, he didn't want to text Cas and ask his location. He could always wait until later in the night and show up at the bakery, but he didn't want Cas to think that the flowers were an exchange for pie. That wasn't the only reason Dean was against waiting; even though he was a romantic, Dean was also impatient. And the thought of Cas leaving his class and finding flowers tied to his bike gave Dean a pleasant flutter in his stomach that was too nice to resist. So, he could really only see way way ahead.

    Dean drove the short distance to the student center, leaving his flowers on the car seat while he went inside. Just like the grocery store, the student center was quiet and nearly vacant, and the footfalls of Dean's boots were loud on the tile floor. As he approached the information counter, he gave a small sigh of resignation upon recognizing the women sitting there.

    “Well, well, well,” Meg greeted, a smirk twisting her lips as he approached. “If it isn't Sweet Cheeks.” she raised an eyebrow, her gazing making a sweep up and down his body. “How's it hanging?”

    Dean forced a smile, setting on the edge of the counter.

    “Megan,” he replied, trying his best to maintain a flirty demeanor. “I didn't know you worked here.” it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Community service?”

    Meg gave a throaty chuckle, popping the gum in her mouth and leaning on the desk.

    “No, this is more indentured servitude,” she replied. “Barely minimum wage to keep my accounts in good standing. But it keeps me in contacts, if you know what I mean?”

    Dean laughed at her intonation. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what she meant.

    “Speaking of contacts,” he said, taping the top of her computer monitor with his finger. “I was wondering if you could do me a solid and find some info for me? I borrowed a book from the guy at the rec center - Cas something – and I wanted to return it to him before I head back home for the summer. But,” he gave an amused laugh. “I don't know his schedule or anything. It seems that the guy is kind of a hermit. Could you possibly look up what class he's in today?”

    Meg's smirk seemed to widen and she turned to her computer.

    “Cas-ti-el Shurley,” she said in her throaty, drawling tone. “So the campus Casanova has met the campus unicorn.”

    Dean gave an amused snort, grinning at the names.

    “Which one am I?” he asked, watching her click the mouse as she navigated the scheduling software. Meg smiled.

    “Please,” she commented, shaking her head. “If Dean Winchester isn't a Casanova, then I need to really start paying attention in class because I haven't learned a damn thing.”

    Dean chuckled, nodding in agreement, trying to keep the exchange amiable until he could get what information he came for. He drummed his fingers on the counter a second before speaking again.

    “So... what makes Castiel Shurley a unicorn?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral. Meg's fingers stopped typing on the keys, the blue-grey glow of the screen lighting up her brown eyes.

    “You know,” she said, giving a suggestive wag of her brows. “A boy like that...”

    Dean's own eyebrows raised in interest. He cleared his throat gently, hoping he sounded casual.

    “Like what?” he asked. “He seemed like a regular guy to me...”

    Meg smiled, her eyes wide as she leaned back in her chair.

    “You met him at the rec center, right?” she said, looking up at Dean. “So you've seen him in all his glory, just as the good lord intended.” Dean scoffed, but inwardly agreed. Cas did have a pretty heavenly body. He smiled.

    “So, you think his body makes him a unicorn?” he commented. “It's pretty rare, I'll grant you that.”

    “Well, that's only one part,” Meg explained, turning her attention back to her computer. “Every and all puns intended there.” Dean felt an odd swoop in his gut from the comment. Meg continued. “The thing that really makes that sweet little cinnamon roll such a mythical beast is that he's got a bod that was definitely designed for sin, but a brain that doesn't contain even an ounce of interest in sex.”

    Dean blinked, unsure if he heard her correctly.

    “He's... what?” he asked, confused. Meg nodded, taking a pen from the cup beside Dean's thigh and a scrap of paper from the pile on her desk.

    “Let's put it this way,” she told him with a smirk. “Last time I saw such a big Ace, I lost at blackjack.” She seemed to find amusement in Dean's stunned expression. “Congrats on getting a book from him,” she commented. “You ain't gonna get much else.”

    “Huh,” was all Dean could respond. Meg nodded in agreement.

    “It's practically criminal, I know,” she said, handing him the scrap of paper. “Art 316 in the Art Annex. Class doesn't end for another half hour.”

    Dean looked down at the paper in his hands, a phone number scrawled beneath the room number for Cas's afternoon art class. He forced a smile, sliding off the counter and standing.

    “Yeah, that... Unicorn really describes it, hm?” he said.

    “The world is a mystery,” Meg said, shaking her head in disgust. “Talk about a waste. I know if I had things my way, I sure wouldn't mind moving some furniture around with the guy, if you get my drift.”

    “Oh, I got it,” Dean told her, nodding and motioning to the paper in his hand. “You are a life saver, my dear.”

    Meg smiled, leaning on the counter.

    “Oh, any time.”

    Dean continued to smile until his back was to the counter, and he frowned as he walked back outside. The sun was bright, and Dean squinted as he stood on the sidewalk, trying to make sense of the information he just received. A bit of his earlier confidence and determination was dampened, and he was starting to second guess his plan. Cas was asexual, according to Meg, so the absolute last thing Dean wanted to do was to make him uncomfortable by making any unwanted advances.

    Dean trudged back to his car, dropped into the driver's seat and pulled out of the lot. He drove aimlessly for a few minutes, his brain feeling slightly numb and his heart more than a little sick. This would certainly explain why Cas hadn't made any attempts to pursue more than friendship. It also explained why Cas wanted to know what Dean considered this relationship to be. Dean had never actually met an asexual person before, but he was pretty sure they were the polar opposite of anything he could ever be.

    Desperately, Dean tried to remember every bit of literature he was ever handed during Pride. He had to admit, asexuality was not something that he spent too much time thinking about. From the moment he could remember discovering what attraction was, Dean considered himself a sexual being, and sex had always been something that was a definite plus in every one of his relationships. Sometimes, it was the only thing in his relationships.

    Dean groaned, pulling the Impala to a stop and staring across to the long, white building that was the art annex. He could see the sole bicycle that was chained to the bike rack by the door, and recognized it as Castiel's. Dean tightened his fists on the steering wheel. He could do what he came to do and tie flowers to the handlebars of Cas's bike, or he could forget the idea altogether. He took a deep breath, puffing up his cheeks as he slowly exhaled his frustration. His eyes drifted to the two happy sunflowers setting on the black leather at his side, and Dean felt his heart ache.

    Slipping one sunflower out of the pair, Dean took the one wrapped in a ribbon and left the other on the seat. Two seemed a little too aggressive to him now, somehow. He ripped a blank section from the scrap paper Meg had given him and rummaged in the glove compartment to find a pen. He scrawled a quick note on the paper before poking a hole in it and threading the ribbon through. He decided he'd leave the flower and hoped Cas would take it as the kindness it was intended as. Regardless to whether or not Cas wanted romantic attention from Dean, Dean wanted him to know he was special.

    Dean got out of the Impala, and trudged across the spring green lawn to the bike rack. He looked around as he approached the bike, making sure he wasn't being watched as he fumbled with the soft, satin ribbon, securing the flower to the cross bar between the handles. He read the note one more time, making sure it was still friendly, but in a non-obtrusive kind of way.

 

_Hey buddy,_

_Sorry we couldn't hang out. See ya Wednesday._

_Dean_

 

    Dean stared at his own handwriting a moment before groaning, ripping the note from the ribbon and stuffing it in his pocket. There was really no just-between-guys way to leave flowers for another dude. So, he'd just leave it as-is and hope that it brightened Cas's day to think someone left him a flower.

    Dean turned from the building, heading back to the Impala and retreating to the safety of his apartment. Benny was reclining on the sofa watching a rerun of True Blood. He gave a look of interest to Dean's slumped shoulders and slouching walk, his eyes following the other man as he tossed a flower onto the counter, retrieved a beer from the fridge, and returned to the living room to collapse at his side.

    “Trouble in paradise?” Benny asked, muting the television and tossing the remote to the floor. Dean shrugged, twisting the cap from his beer and rolling it in his hand. Benny's brow furrowed. “Where ya been? Besides pickin' pansies.”

    Dean rolled his eyes, taking a long draw of beer from the bottle and avoided looking back at his friend. Benny reached out with his socked foot, poking Dean in the thigh.

    “Hey, we playin' twenty questions then?” Benny asked, raising an eyebrow. When Dean didn't respond, he continued. “Alright, I'll bite.” Benny took a deep breath, considering his words before speaking. “Does it have to do with a certain blue-eyed, brown-haired boy that you're in love with?”

    Dean's eyes slid closed and he pushed Benny's leg from the sofa so he could roll onto his side. He rested his head against his friends thigh, sighing deeply. Benny patted him sympathetically on the head.

    “I'm gonna count that as a yes,” Benny stated, taking the beer from Dean's hand before it spilled. He took a drink. “So question two...” he said, looking down at his friend. “Did he say no?”

    Dean was quiet a minute before he rolled onto his back.

    “I didn't see him,” he admitted with a frown. “I don't think I'm going to pursue it.”

    Benny was frowning now as well, looking down at Dean with a confused expression.

    “Now, I swear you were headin' out of this house in a blaze of determination,” he replied. “You and this boy have been dancin' around each other for weeks. He _clearly_ likes you, brother, I wouldn't steer you wrong.”

    Dean grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the ceiling.

    “I think he's just a nice guy,” he grumbled. He pushed himself back into a sitting position, turning to face Benny. “He's not interested in me like that,” he continued, taking his beer back. He fidgeted with the edge of the label a moment, before pressing it back against the cold bottle. “Because he's not interested in 'that' at all.”

    “What?” Benny asked, trying to work out Dean's explanation, because that sounded like the exact opposite of what Castiel appeared to be. It was obvious to Benny that the kid was head-over-heels for his friend. “Who told you that?”

    “Meg,” Dean replied glumly, slinking down into his seat and stretching his legs out in front of himself. “She works at the student center and I went in there to find out what class he was in. She told me.” Benny gave a snort of annoyance.

    “The chick who though it was okay to feel up your naked butt without permission?” he asked. “Cause she seems really reliable.” he gave Dean a thump on the arm. “Of course she's going to eliminate the competition if she's trying to get you to go out with her.”

    “I don't think it's that,” Dean said. “She seemed like she knew from experience that he... well...” he sighed. “She said he was... asexual.”

    There was a silence between them a minute, and Dean turned to look up at his friend. Benny was staring at him with a furrowed brow and a smirk.

    “What?” Dean asked, defensively. Benny shook his head.

    “Have you lost your damn mind?” he asked, slowly. Dean grimaced. “Cause I know you didn't just sit here and tell me that you ain't gonna ask the guy out because he's asexual. Unless I've been misreading your cues these last couple weeks and all you want from this guy is a couple entertaining romps and another notch on your headboard.”

    “Fuck no!” Dean exclaimed, sitting up in his seat. “It's not like that. I like Cas, Benny. I'm not just trying to get him in bed.”

    “Then what's the problem?” Benny asked, holding out his hands in question. Dean's look of exasperation was almost comical.

    “The problem is that I really, really like him and I don't want him to be uncomfortable around me!” Dean replied, hotly. “I have a reputation, you know! If he thinks I'm interested in him, it might... I dunno... I want him to feel safe around me.”

    Benny was quiet for so long, that Dean was forced to look over at him. His friend had a serious expression, but there was something soft and slightly akin to concern in his eyes. Dean felt himself blush.

    “What?” he asked, self consciously. Benny shook his head, giving a small huff of laughter.

    “Every now and then you make me ask myself why I ever let you go,” he said with a smile. Dean felt his blush deepen, creeping down his neck and making his skin warm. “ 'Cause any person on this planet would be one lucky SOB to have you.” Dean rolled his eyes and Benny shook his head in amusement, taking out his phone and punching a few words into his internet browser. Dean turned back to watch him, interested to see where this was heading. Benny handed him the phone. “Asexual doesn't always mean repulsed or fearful of sex, any more than bisexual means secretly gay.” Dean frowned at the comparison, but looked at the article on Benny's phone detailing eight common myths and misconceptions about asexuality. Benny gave him a thump on the arm. “And it doesn't have a darn thing to do with romance. Give the guy a chance.”

    Dean sighed, reading the article and wondering if Cas could possibly be down for giving _him_ a chance. According to the article, interest in sex didn't have any correlation to interest in relationships, but Dean still had a lingering fear of losing the good thing they did have. Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, bringing up the text. It was picture of a sunflower.

_Is this from you?_

    Dean stared at the question, his stomach twisting into a knot. He took a deep breath, rubbing his thumb across his fingers before he tapped in his reply.

**You aren't allergic are you?**

    There was a few seconds delay before the response bubble appeared, indicating that Cas was typing a message.

_No. Thank you._

_It was a very nice surprise._

    Dean gave a sigh of relief, and he glanced to Benny with a sheepish grin. Benny smiled and shook his head, retrieving the remote from the floor and reactivating the sound. Dean returned his attention to his phone as a a new text was received. Unfortunately, this one took the smile from his face.

_Dean, I think we need to talk._

_Could you please come to my apartment?_

    Dean swallowed, his chest feeling a little tight. Any positive effects of Benny's pep talk seemed to seep out of him.

**Sure. What time? I know you have to work.**

    A minute passed that seemed like twenty before Cas's response was received. Dean wasn't sure if it was a good or bad sign. Probably bad. This all felt very bad.

_I'll go in late. I'm heading home now._

_Is now okay?_

    Dean took a deep breath, a lump of dread settling into his stomach.

**On my way.**

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas puts Dean out of his misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank all of you who are reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. I know I'm not the best writer, but it's nice to know that there are people enjoying these stories that I write to entertain myself. I hope Dean's ignorance of asexuality didn't come off as offensive. Even though I'm ace myself, I have never written an ace character (crazy, right?) and I actually don't know how most people view asexuals. But I felt this Dean would err more on the side of concern over scaring off Cas rather than lamenting that he'd never get him into bed. Anyway, if anyone is interested in more of these two, please let me know. :)
> 
> Again, sorry about he change in formatting. I hope it will be more consistent from here on out.

Before Dean left his apartment, Benny tried to convince him to have an open mind. He had taken Dean by the shoulders, looked him in the eye and told him he deserved to be happy, and that he and Cas looked disgustingly cute and happy together, so it had to be a good meet up. Dean promised he'd try his best to keep a positive attitude, but inwardly he could only tell himself that there was no use grieving what may have been. It wasn't like there was any relationship to end. Maybe Cas would give him the 'let's stay friends' talk. He really wanted to keep him as a friend.

The drive to Cas's place was short, so Dean sat in his car a moment taking deep breaths and constructing awful scenarios in his head. The sun was obnoxiously bright and the trees and grass too green and perfect for a summer afternoon that may be ending in disaster. So Dean continued to sit in the stuffy heat of the Impala and walk through another awkward conversation in his head. He could have continued that way for quite some time, but his phone buzzed to indicate an incoming text.

_Are you coming up?_

Dean frowned, feeling slightly ashamed and slightly cowardly. He wiped a bead of sweat from him brow, licking his dry lips before typing in his reply.

**Sorry. Yeah.**

Reluctantly, Dean pushed himself from the car and took the stairs to Cas's studio. His palms were damp and he pressed them against his shirt in an attempt to dry them. He didn't have time to wait outside the door to continue his prophesying doom, because he only needed to knock once before the door was opened.

Cas looked grim. It made Dean's heart drop into his stomach, where the two organs seemed to commence wresting with each other. Dean tried to force a smile, and sighed inwardly at how his face naturally lit up upon seeing the other man.

“Hey, Cas,” he greeted.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel returned, motioned him inside. “Please, come in.”

Dean walked in to the apartment, pushing his hands into his pockets as he watched Cas close the door. Cas was dressed in baggy, faded jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with flecks of yellow paint on the hem, and Dean wondered momentarily if that was what Cas had worn to class. Having seen it first hand, it wasn't hard for him to picture Cas in his loose, relaxed clothing, soft lips slightly parted and face intent as he sketched. Not that he knew those lips were soft, but they appeared so. At the moment, however, those lips were pale and thin, and Cas was watching Dean with his arms crossed over his chest. He and Dean stared at each other a moment before Cas spoke.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

Dean was pretty sure he didn't have any room in his stomach for anything else since his heart was already taking up most of the space, but he desperately wanted something to do with his hands.

“Sure. That'd be great.”

He watched Cas turn and walk to the fridge, taking a bottle of beer from inside and handing it over. Cast didn't normally have beer in his fridge, and Dean was surprised that it wasn't some sort of juice. He looked down at the bottle. It was his favorite.

“Thanks,” he said. Castiel nodded but remained quiet, his arms once against wrapping over his chest. “So,” Dean began, rolling the bottle between his hands but not making any motion to open it. “You... wanted to talk?”

Castiel's expression momentarily changed to something that Dean could only identify as sadness, and he realized that it was, indeed, possible to feel even worse than he already did. He didn't want Castiel sad. He wanted the polar opposite of that.

Cas nodded.

“Um, let's...” he glanced around before motioning toward the couch. “Would you like to sit down?”

Dean gave a shrug and a nod, and Cas led him over to the sofa. They settled on opposite sides of the overstuffed, blue fabric, a whole seat cushion between them. Dean clutched the bottle in his hands, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. He glanced over at Cas before quickly turning back to the room at large. He was finding it easier to look at pretty much anything right now other than the man at his side. A wide blank canvas sat on the easel by the windows, and there were different sheets on the bed than there were last time he was here. Last week they were a pale cream, and today they were green and yellow striped. A box beside the coffee table contained what appeared to be decorative items, and there was a stack of art and lifestyle magazines on the floor beside the sofa. A single sunflower sat on the coffee table in a small orange juice glass of water.

Dean felt his stomach clench.

“You do some online shopping?” He asked to fill the silence and to put off the inevitable. He turned to Cas, giving a small smile and a nod toward the box of miscellaneous decor. Castiel shook his head.

“Uh, no,” he said, taking a deep breath and pulling his feet up on the cushion, crossing his legs in front of himself. “My mother was having my room remodeled and my brother thought I may like to keep some of those things instead of letting her throw them out.”

“Wow,” Dean breathed, looking back to the items. “Your mom's getting rid of your room? What's she putting in? Sewing room? Bar?” Castiel shook his head again, and Dean found he felt a little happier by the other man's small smile.

“No, it's not like that,” Cas explained. “She's just updating my room to make it more... stylish, I guess.” he shrugged. “I think she just can't let things sit. She changes every room in the house at least once a year. I guess it was just my room's time.”

“Bummer,” Dean commented, sitting forward and peering into the box. “She was just gonna throw out your stuff?”

Cas gave a hollow chuckle.

“Just the stuff that reminds her of my dad.”

Inside the cardboard box were a couple hard-backed books, a small trophy of some sort, and a decorative display case containing several colorful coils of fabric.

“Are those,” Dean began, sitting up and turning to Cas. “Martial arts belts?”

Castiel nodded, clasping his hands in his lap. Dean couldn't help but notice how cute he looked sitting there, his blue eyes wide and face slightly flushed. Dean smiled and Cas dropped his gaze.

“I studied Tae Kwan Do for a while,” he said self-consciously.

“Wow,” Dean breathed, looking back to the belts in their case, arranged from light to dark. He turned back to Cas with a look of awe and admiration. “Are you telling me you are a black belt in Tae Kwan Do?”

Castiel blushed a little deeper, a pink tinge creeping across his face to his ears. He shook his head.

“I haven't practiced in a while,” he replied, his hand moving to his neck and he nervously stroked the strands of hair behind his ear. “When I was in the fourth grade, my dad told me that since he allowed my mom to call me Castiel, he should get to decide that I learn to protect myself because of it.”

Dean gave a small snort of laughter, but the words were out of his mouth before he could think about it.

“I think Castiel is a great name,” he said. Cas blushed deeper, but the compliment only seemed to make him more sad.

“Thank you Dean,” he said softly, twisting the hem of his blue jeans where the fabric was fraying into white strands of cotton. “You're... you're really kind.”

Dean gave a shake of his head, dismissing the idea that he said it out of kindness and not out of truth. He missed the smile that was on Cas's face a moment ago, and he reacted instinctively.

“I took a karate class once,” he said, turning to grin at his friend. Castiel's brows raised in interest. Dean nodded. “Sammy caught the original Karate Kid on cable the summer he turned eight, and he practiced the crane in our backyard for hours, standing on one of the cinder blocks dad used sometimes when working on cars.” Castiel covered his chuckle with his fist. Dean grinned more broadly and continued. “So my mom signed him up for this free trial at a local dojo. Sam wouldn't go by himself though, so my mom asked me if I'd go with him. After the first couple classes, he had the confidence to go alone.”

“You didn't keep it up?” Castiel asked, his head tilting cutely. Dean shook his head.

“Nah, I really never had the disposition for structure or discipline or rule following.”

Castiel nodded sagely.

“I suppose that is why it was so easy for me,” he said, his eyes drifting to the box on the floor. “In my mother's house, structure and discipline and rule following was just a way of life.”

“Oh,” Dean replied, twisting the cap from his beer. “My house had plenty of that too, don't get me wrong. I'm just not a fan. I like to do things my own way. I like to... I dunno... figure it out... make it up as I go...”

Castiel's voice seemed a bit wistful when he spoke.

“...that sounds appealing.”

Dean looked up at him and Cas gave a weak smile. They stared at each other a moment, and Dean could almost feel the longing of Castiel wanting to speak. He took a long drink from his beer, figuring there was no point fighting the inevitable.

“So...” he began, grimly. “what did you want to talk about?

Castiel didn't respond right away, so Dean took the time to watch him as he continued to fidget with his pantlegs. Dean knew how strong yet gentle those large hands felt in his, and he knew how sweet his hair smelled, and how soft it felt against his bare shoulder. He knew how happy Cas laugh made him, and he knew he could be content listening to that deep voice.

He really wished Cas wasn't just about to turn him down.

When it seemed like the silence couldn't become any more tense, Castiel finally ended it.

“You're really easy to be around,” he said quietly. “I've... I've really enjoyed the time we spent together.”

Dean licked his dry lips, nodding his head even though Cas wouldn't meet his gaze.

“Me too, man,” Dean assured him. “You know that right? That... that I like hanging out with you?”

Castiel nodded, and he closed his eyes. Dean began to feel less sad and more worried. Cas appeared to be upset.

“Hey,” Dean spoke, setting his beer on the coffee table so he could move closer to the other man, closing the distance the third cushion made between them. “Are you okay? You can talk to me, Cas. I'm here.”

Cas gave a pitiable laugh.

“I know,” He said resignedly, nodding in agreement. “I just...” he groaned. “I just really... _really_ wanted to pretend that it could have been different.” he looked up, his eyes searching Dean's. “You seem different...”

Dean gave a weak smile.

“You lost me, Cas,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted. “But it's killing me to see you like this.” he reached out and put his hand over Castiel's. “Can't you just tell me what's wrong? I'll try my best to set it right.”

Cas looked down at their hands, and his lips were pressed together as if willing himself to stay silent. Dean rubbed his thumb across Castiel's, trying to show support. Whatever this was, they both needed to be put out of their misery.

Castiel swallowed hard, his adam's apple rising and falling dramatically before he blurted out.

“I want to date you.”

Dean blinked, and he could swear fireworks were going off in his head. Castiel continued quickly, as if afraid he'd lose his nerve.

“It was fun at first, just hanging out with you. I _tried_ to only be your friend Dean, really I did. But, I... I really like being around you.” With every new word, Dean felt his spirits rising. “You're so kind and smart and funny. You're so easy to talk to. I want to be around you.” he shook his head, sadly. “But, I've started to get the feeling that... that you may want to date me, too.”

Dean gave a huff of relieved laughter.

“That's... That's great, Cas,” he said, a smile finally spreading widely across his face. “Yeah, me too. I mean, I do. I do, too.”

Castiel shook his head, and his fist tightened under Dean's hand.

“Don't say that,” he pleaded.

“Cas,” Dean spoke firmly, turning in his seat so he could face Castiel directly. “I don't understand. If you want to date me, and I want to date you... what's the problem?”

Cas squeezed his eyes tightly a moment before looking up into Dean's face.

“You're going to change your mind.” he stated flatly. Dean grimaced.

“What?”

Castiel sighed, pulling his hand from Dean's and crossing his arms over his chest. Speaking seemed to give him the courage to speak more, but the words came easier when he wasn't looking into Dean's handsome, freckled face.

“I can't date you, Dean,” he said quietly. “I couldn't do that to you. And... and I can't bear the disappointment...”

Of all the responses Dean had imagined being the reason, this was certainly not it. Dean's brows drew together, his forehead lined in confusion as he stared at the man beside him. It took a few seconds for him to find words.

“What do you mean?”

Castiel sighed deeply, slumping back against the arm of the sofa. He couldn't meet Dean's eyes.

“You won't be happy with me, Dean,” he grumbled. “I don't want to make you unhappy.”

“The very fact that you don't want me unhappy is a plus in your favor man,” Dean said with a smile, hoping he could get Castiel to mirror the expression. He reached over and gave Cas's knee a squeeze. Cas kept his gaze downcast. Dean was quiet a moment as he thought of how to reassure his friend.

“Look,” he began, gently. “I don't know why you think you would make me unhappy. All those nice things that you said about me, well, you know, I feel that way about you, too.” out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Cas look up at him, but he continued to stare at his hand on Cas's knee. “I mean, if you want to spend more time with me and I want to spend more time with you, then...why can't we just do that?”

Castiel's expression softened, but still had an air of sadness to it.

“Because,” he replied, his voice still quiet. “There are things...”

“Look, Cas,” Dean said firmly, setting up straighter but remaining turned to face Castiel. He looked the other man in the eyes, even though he could feel his face blushing. “I ain't gonna lie,” he faltered a moment before continuing. “sex has always been a big part of my dating life. But, I really like you and I think we can just work it out. I mean, I want to at least try. We can just, you know, find out what works for us...”

Castiel seemed to stop breathing and he stared back at Dean in shock.

“You... know?” he asked. Dean nodded, solemnly.

“Meg told me.” He was surprised to see Cas roll his eyes.

“I should have known,” Cas took a deep breath. “You... you are a unique individual, Dean. I've...” he shook his head. “I've not had many still want to date after finding out my... orientation. I'd actually stopped even trying.”

“Cas,” Dean told him, seriously. “Sex is easy to come by. A guy like you is not.”

Cas appeared touched by the comment, and he considered Dean's words quietly a moment.

“It's not sex, Dean,” he said, reluctantly. “It's... attraction. Sexual attraction. I don't experience attraction the way most people do.” he seemed uncomfortable with what he was now admitting, and he seemed to pull closer into himself. Dean kept his hand supportivley over Castiel's knee. “The few people I've dated...” Cas continued. “that's always been the issue. They wanted to change me. 'Fix' me... ended things when they weren't the one who could make me 'right'. But most...” he shook his head. “Most don't even give me a chance.”

Dean felt his skin heat up with irritation and a bit of anger. No one deserved to be treated like that. Especially someone as nice as Castiel. It made him want to do something to set those people right. No word seemed fitting enough, but he was pretty sure it sounded like 'gank'.

“I'm familiar with that too, Cas,” he said, grimly. “And I don't want to change you. I like you how you are. I want...” Dean could feel his chest tighten, the vulnerability of admitting his feelings out loud made him nervous. But he didn't want Cas to be the only one figuratively naked at this moment. He looked into Cas's blue eyes. “I want to take you places and it not just be two dude hanging out. I mean,” he blushed slightly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I'll do whatever you're okay with, but... I mean, I liked holding your hand in the art class. I like sharing dinner with you and crashing on the couch to talk. I want to take you on dates...” he looked helpless up at Castiel, and there was wonder in the other man's eyes. “I don't want to do what you don't want to do, but I want to do everything you're comfortable doing.”

Castiel breathed quietly a moment, licking his lips and pressing them together as he and Dean stared into each others eyes.

“You're okay knowing that I may never be sexually attracted to you?” he asked, his eyes squinting in uncertainty. Dean nodded.

“You said you wanted to date me, so that tells me you kinda like me too.” he said. “And I'll take that, Cas. I get that you don't like sex, and that's... that's fine. We'll work it out, because I want it to work out.”

Castiel was quiet as he considered Dean's words, and Dean waited without further comment. Dean could swear he could hear his heart pounding in the silence, and he was trying not to breathe too loudly as he watched Castiel stare down at his hands, his eyes blinking as he thought. Cas sighed.

“You are a very handsome, popular man, Dean,” Cas spoke, looking back up at him. “There are hundreds on people, just on this campus, who would make really great romantic partners.” Dean was shaking his head before Castiel could finish his reasoning. “People who deserve your attention. You should at least think about this a little longer. I'll understand if you change your mind.”

Dean closed his eyes a moment, his jaw a bit tense as he let Cas's words sink in. He found it hard to swallow, his throat suddenly too dry and tight.

“I've been thinking about it for weeks now,” he admitted. “I don't want hundreds of people, on campus or otherwise. I... I want you, Cas.” Dean couldn't pull his gaze from Cas's bright blue eyes. Castiel was looking back at him in awe. “Give me a chance to show you that I am different.” he gave a small shake of his head. “But, if you just want friendship, man let me tell you, I am down for that. Because you are one of the coolest people I've ever met.”

Castiel finally laughed, and Dean felt himself smile even though his heart ached a bit.

“I'm not cool at all,” Cas replied, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “I'm weird and dorky and... and I don't know the first thing about making friends.”

“You are so cool,” Dean stated, assuredly. “Very cool. I'm glad we're friends.” he gave a jerk of his thumb toward the floor. “You can beat up all my enemies. Make really impressive chalk outlines around them. Make sketches for the police of my other enemies. It's like two-for-one.” Castiel was laughing and the sound made Dean smile widely. It also made him keep talking. “No, I'm serious. After a day of crime fighting – and by crime fighting I mean payback – I'll make those burgers you like and I'll let you kick my ass in chess.”

“I do like those burgers,” Cas agreed, fighting a smile.

“Damn right you do,” Dean said, giving Castiel a clap on the leg. “Because I'm a pretty good cook.”

Cas tilted his head again, unconsciously relaxing closer to Dean.

“What will we do when all the pay back is complete?” he asked. “You may get bored with me.”

“I doubt that,” Dean replied, resting his head on the back of the sofa and staring up into the industrial ceiling of metal beams and brick. “We'll just keep making it up as we go.”

Castiel was quiet, he too now staring at the ceiling overhead.

“I like the way it sounds in your world...” he sighed. “Maybe minus the violence and subterfuge and evasion of law enforcement.”

“I'll work on it,” Dean said with a grin, rolling his head to the side to look at Cas. Castiel turned to him as well, and they once again spent a moment of quiet, simply staring at each other. The air conditioner clicked on, and a cool breeze from overhead gently moved Cas's wavy, already tousled hair. Late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting panels of light and shadow across them where they sat, relaxed against the sofa, trying to read the other's thoughts.

Dean could see there was a lot going on in the other man's mind, and a mixture of emotions played across those beautiful blue eyes. He wanted nothing more than to be able to put him at ease. He'd be lying to say he wasn't bothered by the prospect of never sharing physical intimacy with Castiel, but he also knew from experience that sex wasn't enough to sustain a relationship, or save it. Cas made him want to discover all those other wonderful, non-physical things two people could do to keep them together.

“Dean,” Cas spoke softly, squinting as he kept his gaze on Dean's green eyes. Dean raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for Cas to continue. His next words were a few moments in coming. “I haven't... dated... in a really, really long time.”

“Dating me doesn't require a prerequisite,” Dean assured him. He felt a pleasant jump in his belly at the smile Castiel tried to repress. “No entrance exam. No prior experience required. And it's got a better interest rate than your average student loans.”

“Sounds like quite a deal.” Cas said with a blush. A little of the levity left his voice and was replaced with a bit of self-conscious uncertainty. “I'm not sure it would be a worthwhile exchange.”

“It already is,” Dean told him. Cas closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them his smile returned, but it was faint and slightly shy. Dean gave him a reassuring smile, reaching over and nudging Cas's hand with his own. Hesitantly, Castiel put his hand over Dean's and Dean turned his palm up to lace their fingers together. They continued to stare into each other's eyes, and Dean felt his heart finally relocated to a place further north of his stomach to thump aggressively beneath his throat.

“Dean,” Cas began again, his deep voice so soft it was just barely above a whisper. Dean leaned in just slightly, partly to make sure he could hear what was to follow and partly because... just because. Cas lightly cleared his throat, and Dean could feel the reflexive tightening on his hand. Castiel's voice was still quiet, with a heartbreaking touch of vulnerability in it when he spoke. “Would... would you be my boyfriend?”

Dean felt as though every bit of tension from the past week was released from his muscles all at once. With a decompressing sigh of relief, he grinned broadly and nodded his head. The grateful smile he received in return was one of the most preciously beautiful things he had ever seen – that is until Castiel pressed his forehead to Dean's shoulder, a small huff of relieved laughter escaping him. Dean leaned his cheek against the top of Cas's hair, slipping an arm around his back. They stayed like that for a minute, sharing the same space and finding the pounding of their hearts soon in sync.

Castiel lifted his head, looking down into Dean's face. Dean felt his breathing slow as he watched Cas's eyes looking back into his, every now and then his gaze dropping to Dean's mouth. Dean swallowed, licking his lips and watching Cas mirror the movement. Slowly, as if afraid the moment would break, Cas leaned close to him and Dean's eyes slid closed.

The kiss was soft, chaste. Just barely a brush of lips. But it caused a warmth to bloom inside of him. Dean sighed.

“Was that okay?” Cas asked, suddenly self-conscious. “Is... is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, opening his eyes and smiling up at Cas. “Perfect.”

Castiel smiled back at him, settling comfortably at Dean's side and returning his hand to Dean's. Dean watched how Castiel seemed to be transfixed by the way their fingers fit together, the contrast of Dean's pale freckled skin against his own tan flesh. It felt natural to Dean, like something he had been waiting for.

“Hey Cas,” Dean murmured, causing the other man to look up at him. “This,” he said, indicating he meant more than the moment they were sharing just now. “I think this is gonna be pretty damn perfect too.”

 


End file.
